


Feral

by SoftChismosa



Category: Naruto, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Azteca Mexican, BAMF Female OC, Blood and Injury, But Updating Nonetheless, Canon-Typical Violence, Delinquent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Feral Behavior, Gaslighting, Gen, Hazing, Hispanic OC, Humor, Mean OC, Medical Inaccuracies, Mexican Character, Mixed OC, Not Beta Read, OC Replaces Hagakure Toru, OC is Mexican Japanese, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Quirkless, Quirkless OC, Reincarnation, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Swearing, Tokenism, Trauma, Worldbuilding, flawed character, high school shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27032182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftChismosa/pseuds/SoftChismosa
Summary: Aizawa had thought, at first, that his real problem child would have been the ash blond with the powerful quirk. Don’t get him wrong- Bakugou is definitely still a problem child. But her...Aizawa stares critically at the girl sitting in the cot- actively licking at the cut across her forearm. Her nose dribbles blood but she doesn’t lick that away. Her eyes singe holes into Iida’s face. Iida doesn’t glare back. His eyes stay carefully on Recovery Girl- arm cradled to his chest because that little menace of a girl had managed to break it.Short, skinny, and wild. She’d broken Tenya’s arm and didn’t even flinch when he screamed.Iida Tenya finally flicks a glance up at her. Yamada Hanako doesn’t even blink as his eyes immediately fall away.Yamada Hanako… What an ominous moniker.Who named a little quirkless girl after an unidentified corpse like that?--In which I write a fic about a quirkless main character because I really want one but like I can’t seem to find one that the mc doesn’t discover a hidden quirk. I’m saying this now and loudly: She Is Quirkless!
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, TBD - Relationship
Comments: 66
Kudos: 224





	1. Bloody Gums

**Author's Note:**

> Okay okay I know that she’s not called Hanako right off the bat but that’s for a reason. Her name is Sakia but it’s also Hanako and that will eventually be explained but like hang on with me for a second.
> 
> Also, here's a playlist I made for her. I use it anytime I write or draw her: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3qd41jx5LizYMPOPzuC9ci?si=gRF7OFgpRXma_HEi-17KvQ
> 
> My Instagram is @Soft_Chismosa if yall wanna see the drawings.

Sakia’s mouth tastes like blood and rubber. She keeps gnawing on the end of her pencil anyways- because the pink rubber looks like candy and she’s stupidly fucking hungry after not getting to eat lunch.

The side of her tongue is raw and swollen and the bits of erasers nibbles irritate it more as she rolls them around in her mouth. Her bento of  _ literally just white rice _ was sitting oh so temptatiously in her bag  _ right _ by her feet and her bastard teacher is still going on-and-on about basic algebra and Sakia might just be contemplating the benefits of eating her lunch right in the middle of math class.

A paper ball hits the back of her head.

Sakia swivels around with a snarl- bared teeth lined with old blood and eraser crumbs. The boy- Sato something- meets her glare with a swollen-eyed one of his own.  _ Glare all you want, Glowstick, I broke the shit outta your pinky fair and square. _ Sakia grins- horrible and wide and  _ menacing _ .

“Yamada-san! Is there something entertaining back there or is my lesson boring to you?” Bastard-Sensei barks, bug eyes gleaming in the fluorescent lights. 

Sakai wheels around sharply, smile still tearing at the corners of her mouth, “It’s a bit of both,  _ Teach. _ ”

Fly-Eyes jerks back in disgust, his cheeks paler than usual. He recomposes and sighs because this is  _ Yamada Hanako _ , 3A’s resident delinquent. “Go see the nurse.”

She jumps up as soon as the words leave his mouth because she already finished her homework and was  _ vying _ for a reason to get out of this boring class. A foot strikes out into the aisle but Sakia’s been in the same class as these stale bullies for 3 years now. She stomps on that ankle and  _ revels  _ in the bitten down whimper. 

The class door clicks shut behind her resoundingly and Sakia takes to wandering the halls for the next hour.

\-----

Sakia knows, deep down, in some capacity, that she’s probably a genius child. Lessons come to her easy- she can skip steps in math, pick up vocabulary like nobody’s business, and plays a mean chess game. Sakia could, theoretically, be top of her class.

Instead, Sakia ranks at a healthy, cursed 4th because she’s always so fucking tired and doesn’t have the resources to be number one. 

Sakia clicks her semi-swollen tongue, eraser-less pencil tapping against the floor. She’s hunched over her books- legs splayed and dress riding up as she packs in as much studying  _ now _ as possible. Sakia’s got a history test soon and she doesn’t really like history because it’s  _ just _ memorization. No skill whatsoever. 

“Oi, Hana-pyon, are you ready for your last act? It’s almost 7.”

Sakia bites back the instinctual ‘ _ fuck off’ _ because this is Keihi and Keihi’s persona has always been the bratty kind. Still, she keeps her eyes roving over the details of the Edo period like she’s ignoring him.  _ Pyon… who the fuck does he think he is? _

“Every hour, on the hour. I’ve been doing this for almost a year now.” Sakia mumbles.

Heels clack on the floor until annoyingly bedazzled boots appear in the corner of her vision. Along with the bare, shaven legs that are wearing them. She does  _ not _ look up because Sakia does  _ not _ want to see whatever skimpy outfit he’s got on for his act today. 

“Hoh? History? Hana-tan, that’s gross. You’re really studying before your last act tonight? Shouldn’t you be doing vocal warm-ups or-” 

“Just because you dropped out and became a stripper doesn’t mean that everyone that works here is going to follow that.” She sighs and closes her book. Keihi is  _ not _ going to stop bothering her and she’s only got another 5 before she’s up.

See, Sakia is a singer-server at a sleazy dinner-strip joint. It’s weird but the owner is  _ also _ weird so Sakia gets paid to sing and serve food for a few hours. 

She blows a curl out of her face, packing her books back into her beaten bag. Then, gritting her teeth, she snaps her eyes up to Keihi’s face.

His eyes are lined with an obnoxious blue pigment that brings out the barely-there blue sheen to his dark hair. He tilts his head- short hair shifting from the jerky movement. “Okay, that’s fair. You gonna get an office job then?”

Sakia huffs with hollow amusement. Keihi knows how to take a jab in stride because he’s been working at this sleazy strip joint since he was 16.

“I’ll be a serial killer before I sink even that low.” She stands and kicks her legs around to warm her still blood. The backs of her thighs are stiff. The floorboards make an interesting brick-pattern on them. Keihi grimaces at the pause- because how do you  _ respond  _ to that?

Sakia continues. “I’m gonna become a pro-hero at a big-league school like UA or Shiketsu.”

She taps her shoes against the floor and ignores the resounding echo of it. The sound of too much drunken chatter intertwines with the solemn taps like a shitty funeral march. Sakia licks the line of her teeth and tastes a hint of rubber.

And finally- “You’re aiming for the actual hero programs? Like, not general studies? You’re still- you’re still quirkless, right?” 

“Yes.” Sakia smiles with all her teeth. 

She can hear them starting to introduce the last dinner act of the night- and Keihi shifts slightly because this talk is  _ ending _ . He still slaps a resolute hand on his hip.

“We’ll talk more about this on the drive home.”

They won’t. 

She walks up to the curtain. Another curled baby hair falls in her face. She wiggles her toes in her pinchy shoes. It’s salsa night. 

\----

Arriving on UA grounds is  _ almost _ underwhelming. There’s a fucking abominable amount of students packed in it. All of the different uniforms melding together give Sakia a bigger headache. Maybe it’s the color clashes- maybe it’s the fact that she had asked off of work last night and her asshole boss scheduled her anyway. Sakia blames the colors and trudges on.

Every inch of her brain has been thoroughly crammed with placement testing information. She’s studied so hard that she climbed to  _ second _ in her graduating middle school class. Her stomach rumbles. Her fingertips are numb. This is the third placement test she’s going to take. She’s got another one tomorrow and a fifth the day after. The light of the sun grates against her strained pupils. She wants to chew on something.

She’s sitting in her assigned seat in the testing auditorium before she understands it- blearily blinking at nothing in front of her. She’s smack in the back because she’s  _ ‘Yamada _ ’ from a poor public school- hundreds of other students lining the rows alphabetically-by-junior-high in front of her. There’s some pink-cheeked bubbly girl on her left- and Glowstick on her right. 

Sakia might be tired but she has it in her to grin with fangs bared at him. Sweat lines the back of his neck. 

“I wonder what UA has as it’s testing. Oh, I’m so nervous!” The girl on her right chimes good-naturedly, because all people in Japan are polite and some gentle chatter would surely ease each other’s nerves. 

Sakia is not from Japan and is not polite. She looks over at her with dead eyes and mutters out a, “Oh, cool.”

The girl’s mouth snaps shut. Sakia keeps staring until the girl looks away.

Pro-hero Present Mic steps up to the podium and talks and talks and  _ talks _ about the paper test rules and expectations and phones off and no cheating and his voice is so fucking loud Sakia wishes she was  _ deaf _ .

And then the tests are handed out and flipped over and Sakia has three hours to fill in bubbles, write short answers, and write an essay. Her tired brain clicks because it’s already done this twice and studied more and  _ this _ is familiar and easy _. _

She finishes at the halfway mark- the first. She doesn’t wait around; She recollects her bag and heads to the changing rooms now before they get crowded.

It’s not much- a battered pair of green running shorts and a band tee she’d thrifted years ago. Her tennis shoes are a little tight but her feet stopped growing last year so they’ll last until they actually break. She’s got on banged-up knee and elbow pads. Her hands and forearms are wrapped in athletic tape.

She pauses at the sight of herself in the mirrors. She’s short and skinny. Her stomach claws with hunger. There’s a bento of rice and  _ beans _ tucked in there and she has another two hours until the next test. 

So Sakia settles down, leaning against the bus with her assigned letter on it, and digs the fuck in. It’s bland- but it’s filling and she stuffs herself until it almost hurts.

And after she stuffs herself until it hurts- she’s stuck sitting on the pavement with stewing thoughts.

_ Robots. _

Sakia was fighting robots.

Sakia was a quirkless person expected to fight metal and gain points.

Shiketsu’s exam wasn’t  _ this _ posing. How the hell is she going to destroy robots at a high enough number that she racks up enough points to place in the hero classes?

She thumps her head against the bus’s tire. The back of her neck is hot but she doesn’t have a liga. 

_ There’s gotta be more.  _ She’s watched the sports festivals for the upperclassmen and there were students with less boom-bang power quirks in the hero classes. Which means there’s more to this test than meets the eye.  _ Side note: what a stupid fucking affair the whole thing is. How exactly do students with more subtle quirks showcase themselves- _

It clicks.

Students with lower-key quirks need to be able to showcase themselves.

_ This test runs on a point-based system. There is a zero-pointer. What is the purpose of bots with no point value? Students with less-destructive abilities need to be able to advertise themselves. This is run in a cityscape. This is a hero school. _

Sakia bites on her tongue.

_ There will be a way to destroy the robots without actually needing to tear them apart. That’s a matter of stealth and strategy. But a zero pointer. This is UA- the largest hero high school on this side of Japan. There’s a hidden agenda. Must be. What was it that the irritating pro said? ‘Make sure you keep it heroic’. _

_ This is an exam for the biggest hero school in this area. They have a point system. There are people monitoring us. Keep it heroic. There are point robots and a zero-point robot. Keep it heroic. _

Sakia freezes.

_ There’s a pointless robot and keep it heroic.  _

She heaves a sigh and thumps her head against the steel again.

_ Part of this exam fuckin’  _ **_has_ ** _ to be displaying heroic tendencies. I’m gonna have to help other examinees. _

“Oh! You’re the girl who finished her exam first!” His hair is violently red and violently gelled up into spikes. He smiles and his teeth are sharp. Sakia notes, almost boredly, that he’s kinda cute. 

He pauses after just a literal statement and normally Sakia wouldn’t entertain an empty conversation but her stomach is full and this boy has a friendly face and part of the UA exam is heroics so-

“Yeah.”

Okay, it’s still not much, but at least she didn’t just stare at him and let his statement linger.

His smile falters slightly- but they’re the only two standing by the Block-B bus right now as other students begin to meander over to the other busses. He shifts from one foot to the other before his lips part again.

“Man, I’m kind of excited about these robots. This sort of test is geared right up my alley!” His equally red eyes gleam- shark teeth still bared in a wide grin.

Sakia props her arms on her knees. She’s never mastered pleasantries, so she shoots out a truth. “This is my third exam in a row. I don’t know if I can feel.” 

And he laughs a little. “C’Mon! You gotta be feelin’ nervous or something. Beating up robots is kinda crazy, isn’t it?”

A girl starts to walk their way. She joins them silently- standing a respectable distance away. Her face is void of emotion- and she’s as plain as it gets. Sakia spares her a glance before wheeling back to RedHead Supreme.

“I guess. I don’t exactly have a viable way to destroy them.”

“Ah, you’re quirk’s not fit for robo-combat? That sucks. I’m sure you’ll do well regardless!” He tightens his hand into a fist like a fucking fighting-shounen main character. 

Sakia snorts. “Oh, I will. A few robots won’t stop me from making it in.”

The red haired boy nods with that same smile still on his face. Sakia decides that it’s the end of the conversation and turns away regardless of whether he has more to say or not. She pointedly stretches forward and touches her toes because her legs are stiff and that’s enough optimistic chatter for the week, honestly. 

From that point onwards, a steady stream of students make their way to their designated buses- and Sakia ignores them all in favor of warming up her muscles. 

There will be plenty of time to talk to the students that actually make it into her class (- _ her class because she has to pass. She has to be in the hero course it doesn’t even need to be Class 1-A, it can be 1-B but she  _ **_needs_ ** _ to be in a hero course in a big name school because- _ ).

“Alright, alright, everyone in. It’s time to go.”

Sakia’s ears are pounding with blood as she slides her bag into an overhead luggage cubby and sinks into a seat next to some shaky-knees nobody. Her leg bounces for the entirety of the 5 minute drive. Her heart beats at her lungs and pushes against her ribs and even with that thrumming, growing anxiety- she has to push down a  _ grin. _

The bus pulls to a stop and Sakia digs her nails into her thighs. Her teeth burn behind her lips. Her eye twitches and her nose scrunches. 

“Are you nervous too?” Knocked-Knees twiddles her fingers together, voice weak and wavering. 

Sakia turns to her and the smile rips violently across her lips. 

“No.”

Her seatmate flinches back when she stands abruptly. Sakia doesn’t even look back as she exits the bus. She pushes her way to the front of the crowd until her nose is practically smushed against the gates. There are a few indignant cries behind her but not a single one of them matters because just beyond this miles-tall steel door is Sakia’s fast track to heroics. 

Behind this door is the death of Yamada Hanako.

Her fingers splay against the cold steel. Her fingertips ache with the harsh beat of her heart.  _ Please _ \- Who is she asking? Who’s even listening? Is there anyone- _ Please. I gotta place in this. Beat robots. Save students. If there’s anyone- _

A whip cracks. Sakia’s hands are touching air.

“The test’s begun!”

Sakia doesn’t even look back or question it. The cityscape before her blurs by because she’s  _ fucking running _ .

\-----

“Hmm? Oh, that one’s pretty promising. She seems to get the exam.” Nemuri murmurs as she leans over his shoulder. His eyes flick away from the hot-headed blond over to where she’s pointing a red-lacquered nail. 

A  _ (skinny, skinny- is this part of her quirk? She’s so thin- _ ) girl slaps a hand down on a 2-pointer’s stop button. Her chin is dripping with a line of blood- nose drooling that dark maroon. She offers a sharp grin to the other student she saved. A taped up hand is offered and the girl with a bleeding nose and rust-colored hair  _ helps _ the other student up. 

She laughs with bloody teeth and the camera barely picks up, “Aim for the red!”

And she rockets off with dusty legs to help another student backed into a corner.

“She is. Where’s her exam essay?” He squints at the screen. She’s only got 14 Villain points. She’s either a save-all Hero-Hopeful or she’s smart enough to have figured out the secret scoring system. 

Nedzu pops up from his chair- papers already in his hand. “Oh, I already have them! This is the same girl that finished her exam in record time.”

He plucks the papers from the principal’s hands. “And how’d she do?” His fingers flip passed pages of math and language until he reaches the essay.

“Hmm, a bit rocky in Social Studies, but almost  _ flawlessly _ everywhere else. Practically a little genius. And her essay is phenomenal! I think you’d like her, Eraser.” Nedzu chirps out cheerfully- pure black eyes never leaving the monitor. She pulls a student out of the way of flying debris before punching out a 1-pointer’s button.

Aizawa’s eyes scan through the essay with mounting interest. His eyes flick back up to the screen just in time to see the unhinged gleam in  _ Yamada Hanako’s _ eyes as the Zero Pointer shakes the pseudo cityscape. 

“Maybe.” 

\-----

Sakia dives back as another piece of concrete crashes from the sky. She sniffles because her nose stopped bleeding a bit earlier and then a piece of asphalt had the  _ audacity _ to tear up from the earth and smack her in the face so her poor nose is dripping blood  _ again. _

Honestly, at this point, she  _ might _ have enough points to just turn around and say fuck it. But might isn’t enough.

So Sakia is running  _ towards _ the Zero Pointer. 

Her chest is  _ squeezing _ with this ever-mounting feeling of  _ OhFuckOhFuckOhFuck JustTurnAroundYouStupidBitchWhyAreYouHeadingTowardsTheMonsterYou’reGonnaGetYourselfKilled- _ but she hops over chunks of building anyways because the mousy girl from the bus is lagging behind way too far and Sakia might be a two-faced bastard but that’s a twisted ankle and there’s no heroes here except for all the examinees. And every single sensible one is running  _ away _ but there’s no one to help Knocked-Knees. 

Sakia chokes on dust and sand and the taste of powdered concrete is surprisingly awful. She slides over an I-Beam and a loose bolt slices the meat of her thigh. The Zero Pointer takes another earth-shaking step. Knocked-Knees cries out. Sakia reaches her and roughly slings the girl’s arm over her shoulder.

Her ears are ringing. Her mouth tastes like copper and sand. She grips the girl’s waist too hard. “ _ Move! _ ”

The speed is doubled but the Zero Pointer is still hot on their ass and Sakia’s  _ really, really _ wishing she’d kinda just pegged on Shiketsu and just slept in today. Her neck is slick with sweat that makes her hair sticky and the dust settle on her skin like a milk-film. Knocked-Knees pants with exertion and pain and  _ limps _ .

“Times Up!”

It all freezes. 

Sakia collapses with  _ relief _ . ( _ The girl with the twisted ankle pitches forward with a yelp but it doesn’t matter because it’s done now. No more life-threatening robots test. Just the feeling of cracked road against Sakia’s bruised cheek-). _

She pants down at the earth- forehead dripping sweat- and lets her twinging heart  _ finally _ settle. Her hair pools in a mess around her- the choppy strands sticking to her face. It’s like a puddle of rust- sinking into the cracks in the concrete. 

“Th-” Sakia’s head snaps up- “Tha-thank you. You- You saved me.” The mousy girl twiddles her fingers together. Sakia doesn’t even smile. 

Instead she breathes heavily and nods, “It’s part of the job, yeah.”

\-----

“It’d be putting her at risk! She’s not equipped to handle the life of a Hero!”

“She handled it just fine in the practical!”

“Are you willing to get the blood of a little girl on your hands like this? It’ll kill her!”

Nemuri’s hand slaps down on the table and Aizawa’s eyes fucking skyrocket up because this back-and-forth has been going on for over an  _ hour now _ .

“Barring her from the school would only show that UA is  _ ableist.  _ Is that what this school stands for? That anyone can become a hero but only if they fit into the mold-?” And Nemuri is  _ livid _ because her quirk already got her shit but this little girl doesn’t even  _ have _ one. 

“Any quirk is welcome because we can nurture those quirks into their peak. She doesn’t have one! And that’s  _ fatal _ for any upcoming hero! How could she hope to take down any quirked villain?! She’ll die!” Powerloader is leaning against the table. Aizawa sighs and leans his head back. A copy of her essay sits on the table in front of him.

It’s a nice essay, for what it’s worth. It’s strongly written- well paced and inflective. She’s clearly a bright girl. The only issue with it is that Aizawa can tell just from the essay that if they denied her access to UA- she’d plow forward without the license. A  _ vigilante _ \- He parts his lips to say just that but Hizashi perks up much louder and faster than him. 

“It’d be a tough road ahead for her- but you can tell from her essay that she’d go for it anyways! UA might be her safest bet. And it’s really not all that different from Eraser, huh?”

And finally, the table pauses.  _ Fucking damnit, Hizashi. Now I’m in the spotlight. _

It’s Thirteen that speaks first. “It’s fundamentally not the same. Eraser levels the playing field by cancelling out the quirks. She wouldn’t have that.”

The table bursts into flames again. Aizawa pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s losing sleep for this. 

Next to him, Principal Nedzu chuckles. “What an interesting dilemma. To see the staff divided like this is truly something,” And he shrugs languidly, “It’s a shame this entire debate doesn’t matter, neh Aizawa?”

Aizawa’s neck cracks with how fast he snaps his face to look directly at the principal. 

“What do you mean, Nedzu?” He sits up,  _ completely  _ tuning out the back and forth between Ectoplasm and Vlad King- between Midnight and Powerloader, between Present Mic and fucking  _ All Might _ . 

“I’ve already decided. We all did- rewarding those rescue points. She passed the exam and made it into the top 10 leaderboard.” Nedzu answers cheerfully.

The entire table finally shuts the hell up and all of the attention is thrown on the chimera. 

“She’s going to be in Class 1-A!”

Aizawa slumps back into his chair because that’s  _ his  _ class this time. Yamada Hanako, the quirkless girl who’s dividing the staff like this, is going to be his problem, of course.

\-----

_ “Nothing ventured, nothing gained!” He crows, pumping his ace-taped fist. The blood dripping from his chin is worn with pride- even as it sinks into the crack of his busted lips and dribbles to the floor.  _

_ She smiles- because her own nose is also bleeding and knowing that both of their mouths are thick with the taste of crimson copper is  _ **_riveting_ ** _. She cracks her neck and the line of tired vertebrae in her back pop too. Her knees are bruised. Her fingers are swollen and numb. _

_ “Is this another one of those youth things?” The grass is rough and sharp against her legs. Her stomach burns with strain but she props herself up on beaten elbows anyways.  _

_ His right knee tremors and his thigh twitches and his whole  _ **_form_ ** _ is wobbling but he smiles with big, bright black eyes. The split in his eyebrow almost spills blood into them but she knows he’d never close his eyes even as it did.  _

_“The lotus blooms twice.” It’s not called out with the ferocity in his heart. Just a whisper- passed the bloody teeth and split lip and into the clearing- floating just between them. His black hair sticks to his cheeks and she_ ** _recognizes_** _a challenge when she hears one._ _She stands up again._

_ “This time, I’ll kick your ass, L- _ ”

Sakia’s elbow screams with pain. Her heart thuds dully and her toes twitch. Her legs are cold. She looks at her arm. There’s nothing there so she glares at her nightstand because what else would have woken her up like that?

She always wakes up before she can find out the Boy With A Bowl Cut’s name.

Sakia smacks her mouth tiredly, sitting up in her shitty bed. Her back aches almost as badly as her pinched-up toes.  _ Stupid asshole boss- making me stay through closing like that.  _

It’s midday on a Saturday and there’s not much to do but Sakia’s got another long ass shift tonight so she might as well make these few hours worth it. Maybe a walk around town? Window shopping sounds fun. She could also pop out to that food pantry and see if they have anything to spare-

Her mail slot clatters and two envelopes slide against the floor. 

_ Is that a wax seal? _

Sakia fucking  _ launches _ out of bed. 

She slides on the floor and the burn of it against her bare stomach might mean she has a scrape but she  _ claws _ into the UA letter.

_ Oh boy oh boy oh boy- it’s heavy-! _

There’s a circular disk inside and Sakia’s throat is clenching up. The wax seal pops off cleanly. Her fingers shake. She pulls out the little circle and slaps it down on the floor anyways because this might as well be like a picked-off scab stuck on one part and Sakia’s not afraid of her own blood. 

It turns on immediately and Sakia’s dark-adjusted eyes are immediately assaulted with the world’s brightest close up of Number-One Hero All Might’s face. “I’m here as a projection!”

_ Hold on, isn’t All Might based in like Shibuya or some shit? Why’s he in Musutafu? _

“I came to this city to work in UA!” And he laughs  _ boisterously _ .

Sakia wants to scream into her hands. All Might is the exact reason why Sakia is fighting her way up the ladder and here he is  _ laughing _ at her through a pre-recorded message. She bites down on her nails.

“So lets review! You passed the written exam with one of the highest scores! Most of your points there were docked from the Social Studies portion. As for the practical- you scored a modest 15 points! This should be enough to place you into one of the General Studies-”

Sakia stops breathing.  _ No. No no no- _

“However, you discovered the hidden score system in the test, didn’t you? Take a look at this video!” He swings a remote over to the screen behind him and Sakia sucks in a deep lungful of stale, sweet air.  _ Hidden Score System Hidden Score System HiddenScoreSyst- _

It’s a compilation of the practical and Sakia  _ fumes _ at having to watch herself help other students.  _ Pathetic. If a single one of them knew- they’d refuse my help. _

And then she watches herself swing that one girl’s arm around her shoulder even as the Zero Pointer’s wheels are just meters behind. 

“And even with your status, it’s the spirit of Self-Sacrifice that makes the best Heroes. How could the hero course deny those who save others and do the right thing? A Hero’s job is grueling and requires risking one’s life! So, Rescue Points!”

The screen flashes with a leaderboard and Sakia leans forward. 

“Yamada Hanako: 42 rescue points! You passed at 10th in the practical!”

“Holy shit. Oh my fucking god-” Sakia drags her bitten nails against the floorboards because-  _ because- _

“Congratulations, Young Hanako. This is your hero academia!” 


	2. Split Lip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so okay so-  
> I know it's been like 2-3 weeks but please consider that I have a stupid wild amount of notes for the future of this fic. like I have actual plans on where things are going. I've got notes on the sports arc already. Just give me some time to write things- I'm not the fastest and I don't write if I don't feel like it'll come out empty-hearted but I do write. and draw. I also wrote out what Sakia submitted for her UA entrance exam essay. You don't have to read it but it'll be the last thing in the bottom notes.

(This is her! I draw her a lot and post it on my Instagram! _ShamelessPlugShamelessPlug: @soft_chismosa_ )

CH 2: Split Lip

Sakia slaps down her acceptance letter right on top of Keihi’s too-light powder foundation with the delicateness of a falling cinder block. 

He pauses mid-blot. But he doesn’t look down- eyes still trained on his own reflection. And then he fucking _continues_ without asking- pink egg patting against his blotchy cheeks without a single care to nothing. 

Sakia grinds her teeth and growls, “Aren’t you gonna fuckin’ ask?”

“You’re gonna tell me anyway, Hana-tan.” He chuckles lowly- blending in the pale color still. 

Her nose twitches. He’s right, but a little enthusiasm would be nice. ( _And the blase attitude is reminding her of someone but who else does she know except for Keihi who is nonchalant and smug like this? Who? Who is it? Silver hair, black eye- But there’s no face-_ ) 

She plants her bruised knuckles into her hips. His eyes meet hers in the mirror- electric lime against blazing amber. Then a solid few seconds of nothing but the other dancers chatting and a mish-mash of all of their make-up playlists filters between them. Keihi blinks once. Sakia does not, even as her eyes water. Her teeth squeak as she grits them. 

Keihi’s nose twitches and his hand starts patting the blender against his skin again. “Okay, fine, _Ooh, What’s that?_ ” His voice is coated in thick molasses- sugary with a burnt aftertaste. 

Her busted lip splits open again when she grins. The taste of blood is so normal that she just licks it away and taps her finger against the wax seal that she left on there on _purpose_ . She was gonna frame this shit. Hang it right above her bed. See it every morning and every night. Still, Keihi does _not_ look down at her new pride n’ joy- still blending that stupid foundation.

“It’s my fucking acceptance letter, you ass.” Sakia clicks her tongue- copper addled spit-soaked into her teeth and gums.

“Mah, Good job, Hana-pyon. Hmmm,” He tilts his head right and left and even she has to admit that he did a good job smoothing out the too-white color, “Very cool indeed…”

He pumps a tube of mascara with disinterest. Sakia wilts because _Come-fucking-on, Keihi. You are literally the only person I have to share this with. At least pretend._ Her brow twitches. He flicks his wrist carefully- practiced and expert in applying the pigment. Sakia waits for him to do the little thing where he wiggles it close to his actual eye and then she rips open her mouth again.

“It’s from UA.”

He jerks and makes a huge smudge of black right into his eyeshadow and part of his brow. 

“Oh, _Motherfucker!_ ” 

His hand flaps uselessly in front of his eye for a moment because _shit shit shit- my fucking makeup- Hanako, why would you say something right then, how the hell am I going to FIX this?! God, It’s awful, just look at it- and I actually did my brows toda-_ Keihi freezes- fingers still dragging at his face dramatically. His eyes flick down to the table. The wax seal gleams like a blood drop against snow. His jaw unhinges and moves around like a children’s play place animatronic. 

“Yu-Yu-Yu- _U.A?!_ ” His finger shakes violently as he points at the wax seal which, yes, does in fact say U.A., doesn’t it? Sakia’s had far more time to also revel over the stars aligning so she smiles like the little beast she is. 

She waves nonchalantly. “Yeah, yeah, U.A. Read it. The real deal and everything.”

( _Oh, she is definitely puffing her chest out. This one is dedicated to the elementary and middle school teachers. To the orphanage matron who looked at her with a stink eye. To the first kid to pull her hair and spit on her. To Glowstick Sato’s broken pinky. To the Boy With The Bowlcut because Sakia fucking did what everyone said she couldn’t. It goes, especially, to her scumbag m-_ ) 

“ _U.A…_ ” Keihi breathes it like it’s sacred- glittery nails tracing over the letters again and again. His eyes are out of focus- seeing something beyond the paper. Sakia falters because what kind of reaction is _this?_ _Where’s the fanfare? The congratulations? The ‘I was wrong, Hana-pyon.’?_ But Keihi’s unfocused eyes and wandering hands are _worshipping_ the acceptance letter and are those fucking _tears_ in his eyes? _What the fuck-_ “Hanako-chan… _U.A?_ You really, really made it into U.A. This is an actual acceptance letter. Oh, gods, it’s real-”

Sakia’s lip trembles because this is _not_ at all the response she wanted. Why is he crying? This is her acceptance letter so- “Why are you _crying_?” 

And it’s bitten and cruel and Sakia doesn’t mean it to be but why is _he_ crying when it’s her future being set in gold? Sakia should be reveling in the print like that, not standing here in the dressing room of a strip club waiting for the approval of the only adult figure in her life-

“Do you even know what this _means?_ You’re gonna break the system. You’re gonna pave the way for every other Quirkless person out there to be more than just an office job or forgotten body in the streets. Hana-chan, you’re gonna _dismantle_ the heroics program!” Keihi finally looks up at her and tears roll down his carefully patted foundation but the look in his eyes is crazed and _excited_.

She nods numbly and her mouth probably moves to say something like ‘ _Yeah, I know’_ . He doesn’t notice the bland stare in her eyes because no one ever looks closer at her sharp-toothed smiles. His attention is back on the stupid acceptance letter instantly- whispering under his breath what sounds like a prayer or thanks to local gods even though not a single one of those gods shed blood and sweat in a false cityscape. _She_ did. And yet, no matter how resentful she is of this blatant worship of heroics and idealism-

Sakia still can’t find it in her to tell him that’s not the actual reason she’s going into heroics anyways. 

\-----

Sakia’s back twinges with sharp pain as a brick digs perfectly into the bruise on her shoulder blade. Her teeth clack but she’s done this enough to know this boy’s stale ass tactics- she tucks her chin and doesn’t knock her head against the grungy wall.

“ _How’d you do it?!_ ”

Sakia rolls her eyes. He’s seething- but more like a toddler in the toy aisle than the year one high schooler he’s going to be. His face shines a sickly green in the low lighting and staring at it now, Sakia wonders, _why did this loser take the entrance exam? Did he actually think he’d make it into U.A. while hinging on a quirk like this?_

“Hmm?” She tucks her hands into her pockets and rolls her lollipop around.

The girl behind him staggers close enough for Sakia to catch a whiff of artificial banana. Her nose wrinkles even as the pale girl squares her shoulders and screeches, “Don’t play dumb! You cheated!”

Glowstick’s thumbs press into Sakia’s collar bones. Sakia stares up at him boredly- eyes blank and brows relaxed. His face twists up with ugly anger wrinkles- dense around his too-thin eyebrows and pinched nose. Another one of their posse- this tall boy with stupid noodle hair- shoves aside Scratch-N’-Sniff girl with his boney fists clenched at his sides and she squawks. 

_Ah, what was his quirk again?_ Sakia watches the way he joins Glowstick just to stand over her, rambling furiously about how she didn’t deserve to go to U.A. and should hand over her letter to one of them because they actually deserved it and yadda yadda, blah blah, the same stale shit as always. _Isn’t it something with measurement? No, that’s the quirk of that other kid with swirly eyes. Mahh, what is Noodle-Head’s quirk again? It’s something with shapes and forces. Geometric sense or-_

Sakia tilts her head and Glowstick’s knuckles crash into the brick wall.

He whimpers and flinches back immediately- cradling his bleeding hand with tender care that certainly didn’t exist seconds ago. But none of them move fast enough to stop Sakia when she darts forward and digs her nails into Sato’s hand.

He bites down on his tongue and Sakia finally cracks a smile.

“Your name is Sato Yakeru. You’re 16th in class. Your quirk is Bioluminescence.” She tightens her grip enough to roll his knuckles and he cries out. Her eyes flick over to the boy two heads taller than her, “And you’re Goda Tajima. 19th. Quirk, Architect. And she’s Kagawa Ichika. 25th. Quirk, Scent Emission.”

Sakia’s leg swings up. Her foot settles flat on Sato’s chest. He wheezes- fingers twitching in her grasp. His blood makes her grip slippery but not enough to let him loose and not enough for Sakia to care about the fact that she’s going to have to walk home with her hands in her pockets. Goda twitches forward just an inch. Sakia pulls on Sato’s arm-

And she kicks Sato right into Kagawa- making sure to keep her grip nice and tight until the last second to _milk_ the fractures in his phalanges of every ounce of pain they have to spare. She swings her leg right down onto Goda’s foot- heel slamming down on his nice, shiny shoes. 

She twists her bloody hand into his white button-up and even though she’s only 5’ to his 6’, he _cowers_. 

“All three of you low ranking lackeys didn’t make it into U.A. Why not? You have stupid little quirks and I don’t, huh? So why’d I make it in over some deadbeat dumbasses like you? Like every other shit-face in our class? Is that what you’re askin’ me?” She snarls at Goda-Noodle-Fuckface, “Or is that what you’re asking _yourselves_?”

She shoves him back and he trips over absolutely nothing like the pansy motherfucker he is. Banana-Ishika doesn’t even open her big mouth like she’s known for.

“I made it into U.A. because I’m better than every single person in this school. Not a single one of you losers have what it takes even with those quirks. Pfft,” Sakia bites down on her sucker. The shatter of it echoes in the alleyway, “ _Bioluminescence._ Really, it’s like you were asking for a handout.” 

She walks past them and none of the little wimp bitches moves. She even _knocks_ into Scratch-Sticker’s shoulder- chanting _ComeOnComeOnComeOn-Try Something, Do It_ over and over in her head but Ichika lets herself get shoved- thin lips puckered. 

Sakia stops at the mouth of the alley. She turns her head back and a malicious smile is burned across her lips. 

“Did you really think you’d become a hero with such weak drives like that? Pathetic.”

She keeps walking- blood-smeared hand tucked into her school skirt pocket.

\-----

_A tan hand- rough and scarred but painted with an immaculate manicure- tugs at Sakia’s chin-length hair. There’s a pensive hum- almost bored with how flat it sounds. Then, scarlet lips part at the corner to mutter, “Go on, blow the candles.”_

_Sakia remembers her chest twisting up with ugly toddler tears- the kind where your fingers go all tingly and your toe joints hurt. She sucks on her lower lip and turns back to the 5 cheap sticks slapped haphazardly into a corner-store zebra cake. She pulls all the tricks a 5-year-old can think of- twisted fingers and toes and crossed legs- wishing so,_ ** _so_** _hard on every star in the world and begging the gods her mother worships, and then she blows out those dollar store candles with the strength of a million prayers._

_And then with the grace of a 5-year-old- she rips out the wax sticks and stuffs half of the zebra cake into her mouth._

_“What did you wish for?” She’s clever- tongue twisting around the hissing noises and smooth vowels of Nahuatl and Spanish- mixing the two in a way that almost makes Sakia’s little head spin. Almost._

_Sakia’s cheeks are puffed out- filled with cheap frosting and cake and glaze in a way that makes any 5-year-old happy. She swallows only half a mouthful and chirps out, “A quirk!”_

_The woman laughs like smoke and ash- yellow eyes glinting in the fluorescent lights. “A quirk? You silly thing.” The fingers in Sakia’s hair pull just a little too roughly. “You’re Quirkless.”_

_The zebra cake tastes like acid-_

Sakia’s eyes snap open. Her blanket has, once again, failed to cover her feet through the night, so her fucking toes are freezing. She smacks her mouth three times and fumbles around to turn off her shitty cheap alarm. It squeals pitifully when her palm slams down on the button. She double-takes when she sees the time.

_6:45…_ Is it really worth it to go to the U.A, the biggest name hero school on this side of Japan, if she has to wake up this early? Is it _really_ worth it?

Scarlet lips and yellow eyes flash in her mind and, yep, it’s worth it. 

Sakia tumbles out of bed like uh… huh, exactly like one of those videos where a hamster gets flung out of a running wheel. Her shins crash into the floor and her arms get tangled in her blanket but she’s no longer in bed- so it’s fine. What’re a few more bruises?

She puffs her cheek out- the one that’s against the cold hardwood. _It was better when I didn’t have to wake up and take a train. Gonna miss going to that tiny ass poor school just cuz’ of this_. Sakia pushes off the floor and stumbles to the bathroom with twinging knees and a sore back. She eyes her frayed toothbrush with dismay and makes a mental note to get a new one on her way back home.

Sakia makes quick work of brushing her teeth and finger-combing her choppy hair and washing her face _._ And then she staggers out of the shitty bathroom looking a little more refreshed but certainly not feeling it.

She looks at the uniform sitting on the night table with a critical eye.

Sakia leaves the house with her top two buttons popped open and that dumb red tie stuffed in the bottom of her beat-up back. Right under her lunch. Fuck that tie. But she buttons up the jacket, at least. She can’t push _too_ many dress codes.

And when Sakia makes it to the train station- she hops the toll gate.

None of the bleary-eyed businesspeople say anything, even if she’s wearing a U.A. uniform ( _maybe especially because she’s wearing it_ ). She sits down on the train and ignores the woman sending her a stink eye with a hand purposely on her stomach. There’s not a bump at all. Sakia thinks this ‘pregnant’ woman can stand for a bit.

The pregnant woman sneers as they both get off at the same stop and Sakia has to actively not throw hands at a full-grown woman because getting arrested is most certainly _not_ the right way to start off high school. The last thing she needs is to start developing a criminal record like that. 

\-----

Ochako Uraraka _freezes_ mid-sentence when she sees a flash of orangy-red from the corner of her vision. The silly freckled boy with green hair doesn’t even notice as she slowly turns her head with mounting dread. _No way, no way- how embarrassing-!_

It’s the dead-eyed girl from the exam. 

Really, it’s not even that big of a deal! Uraraka was just trying to strike up some pleasantries with a girl that clearly didn’t want to talk before a super mega hugely important exam but she really can’t get those sleep-deprived, blank yellow eyes out of her head. Uraraka can’t forget the way she bit down on her tongue and sweated under her collar. She won’t ever forget the way the girl _waited_ for Ochako to be the first one to look away.

This girl’s haunting yellow eyes were, like, Ochako’s sleep paralysis demon. 

Ochako flinches away as the girl shoulders past the three of them in the doorway- not even bothering to _think_ of saying a customary ‘ _excuse me’_ or _‘pardon’_ . The funky glasses guy rounds on her for that- chopping dramatically at the air. And then he notices her uniform and keeps _going-_ and _oh, gosh_ , Ochako’s biting on her tongue already.

The girl pauses two steps away and a cold shiver goes down Ochako’s back. 

Gleaming golden eyes stare back at them. Her lips peel around a sneer ( _and is that a split lip? A split lip? Oh no oh no oh no- this girl is definitely a bonafide delinquent-_ ) and the bandaid on her cheek wrinkles around the frown.

“Hop off my dick.”

Iida Tenya _chokes_. The choppy-haired girl keeps walking and sinks into the first open seat- the last window seat in the front row. She smiles with too many teeth at the blue-haired boy’s indignant sputtering. 

Ochako only has enough time to notice that same smirk mirrored on the face of the ash-blond sitting right behind her before a voice chimes from the floor ( _the floor..?_ ) behind her. 

“We don’t have time for petty drama.”

She turns around slowly. There’s a man on the floor. In a yellow sleeping bag. 

“Welcome to UA’s hero course.” He unzips the bag and _slurps a juicy pouch_. 

The blood drains from Uraraka’s face because her Sleep Paralysis Demon starts laughing even as the three of them in the doorway make shocked exclamations. The bloodshot, bedraggled man starts standing and speaking but Ochako is simply not hearing anything beyond her blood rushing. _This must be hell- it must be- there’s no way that I’m in the Hero class of the Great UA High School with that mean girl and this is- this is our-_

“-Homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shota.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out an entire _gym uniform_ , “You’ll all need to put these on. Head to the locker rooms and then outside.”

Ochako is feeling faint.

She tails thoughtlessly after the other girls- hanging a little closer to the nice-faced tall girl and as far away from the delinquent as possible. She can’t stop picking at her cuticles ( _Stop, Ochako! You said you’d break that habit! Your nails will look icky!_ ) and throwing nervous looks at the tanned girl hanging back just _enough_ steps to be awkwardly distanced. 

Uraraka’s mouth goes dry when she notices that the lockers are divided alphabetically.

Because she’s _Uraraka_ Ochako and- and- that girl’s name is _Yamada_ Hanako. 

( _And Ochako knows it’s rude to stare but who ever would think that this scary girl would pair a practical black bra with periwinkle boy shorts? And she’s covered with bruises!_ )

“Ah! We should make a group chat.” It’s the pink girl- pumping her fist around enthusiastically. Yamada Hanako huffs, winding athletic tape snugly around her hands. 

The girl with phone jacks for earlobes hums prompting while tugging on the white tank top. She runs a hand through her short purple hair. “What for?”

“Well, we gotta stick close together because there’s only 6 of us.” And Ashido- Ochako flicks a glance at the nameplate on her locker, she’s _Ashido Mina_ \- snaps her fingers and plants her fists on her hips. Ochako smiles because, yeah, _maybe us girls should stick-_

There’s humorless laughing on her left. Everyone looks at Yamada Hanako with faltering smiles. She pulls on her gym jacket roughly. Yellow eyes swipe across the locker room scathingly. ( _Ochako flinches back-_ )

“There’s only one of me.”

They all watch quietly as Yamada Hanako throws her hands into her pockets and swaggers out. Uraraka’s fingers clench at her shirt. 

The girl with big eyes and long green hair tilts her head. “ _Hm,_ what an abrasive person.”

\-----

“You’ve been taking standardized tests almost your whole lives.” 

Sakia bites down on everything in her mouth- teeth gnashed against tongue and cheeks. The taste of copper floods her senses. It’s like the clacking of a metal spoon against her teeth.

He’s staring right at her. Blank, dead, black eyes right into blank, dead, yellow ones. He doesn’t blink. “The country is still trying to pretend that we’re all created equal by not letting those with the most power excel. It’s not rational.” 

Sakia’s lip splits and bleeds. Dribbles sluggishly right down her chin. 

She leans forward on her toes and digs her nails into her palms because this is a direct challenge and _You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t understand just how fucked up it is for me? It’s more than this country. It’s all of them. It’s everything-_

“Bakugou, you managed to get the highest score on the entrance exam. What was your farthest distance throw with a soft ball in junior high?” Those black, black eyes move away at last but her heart is still thrashing around in her chest with a blazing fury. Her mouth drowns in the taste of salty pennies.

The ash blond on her far left answers back, slouched boredly. “67m, I think.”

“Try it with your quirk.”

Sakia’s bloody mouth tastes like zebra cakes when the blond boy throws the ball an explosive 705.2 meters. 

\-----

“Today you’ll compete in 8 physical tests to gauge your potential. Whoever comes in last has none, and will be expelled immediately.”

There’s immediate outcry from the students. None of it matters- he doesn’t listen to it. Not a single one of these students had a thing to worry about with quirks like theirs. Rather...

Aizawa’s eyes gravitate back to the slip of a girl _seething_ just a few feet from him. She’s got murderous eyes locked on him- or maybe _through him_. There’s a lot in that gold-eyed stare. Her skinny little wrists tremble with rage- jaw clenched so hard that it’s tooth-grinding. 

“Like I said, I get to control how this class runs, understand? If that’s a problem, you can head home right now.” He’s hardly paying attention to the outrage of these other students.

Her lip is bleeding- split open already and soaking drop by drop into the field. 

_Why do you want to be a Hero?_

The anti-gravity girl is rambling about unfairness. There’s irony in it that tickles at him and he’s already smiling because it’ll intimidate the little shits but the bloody-mouthed Quirkless girl is _vibrating._ Aizawa is seeing that bratty rage and practically _hearing_ her essay screamed at him.

_This world is riddled with unfairness-_

“The world is full of unfairness. It’s a hero’s job to combat that. If you want to be a pro you’ll have to push yourself.” 

_-one that exists entirely because of the Heroics system in place._

She bares her teeth at him and her grimace is slick with crimson spit. She’s leaning forward- like she wants to rocket towards him and throw her bony fists at his stomach.

_It stems from the rank system and creates this need to be the best._

“For the next 3 years, UA will throw one terrible hardship after another at you. So go beyond- Plus Ultra style.” He’s looking right at her because UA will throw terrible things at each of these students but none as terrible as for her. She’s most liable to place last. And Aizawa has no qualms against booting her from UA because it’s far more cruel to keep her in the Hero course if she has no potential to be in it.

_To be Quirkless is to fade into obscurity._

Aizawa blinks. And, just this once, he smiles- even if it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Show me it’s no mistake that you’re here.”

Yamada Hanako’s bleeding grimace twinges up into the ugliest smile he’s ever seen come from a little girl. 

_It is the job of a hero to save people. I’m going to save myself._

\-----

Kirishima Eijirou is not entirely certain how to feel about the fact that the girl he talked to before the entrance exam made it into U.A. ( _and his class no less_ ). He’s, like, kinda hype for her- but she’s also bleeding from her mouth and _not_ acknowledging it. And her and the Teach were having this really _, really_ intense staredown while he was explaining everything. Almost like everything he was saying was specifically for her and Eijirou is thinking about how this girl had mentioned her quirk wasn’t really combat suited but also it’s kinda dickish of their sensei to target her for that, isn’t it?

He kneels on the floor next to her. Her hair pools messily around her and into the dusty wood. Blood drips from her lip and she _finally_ licks it away but all it does is smear ( _thatskindagrossEw-_ ).

“It’s pretty cool that we both made it in, huh?” He smiles shakily at her, fingertips carefully wrapping around her ankles. 

She huffs and jerks so quickly into her first sit-up that Kirishima has to manhandle a flinch down. And she _keeps going_ like that- pace rapid and almost painful to watch because her lip is still beading red but her form is stupidly flawless and _Wow, Maybe I should ask her for tips- that’s fucking amazing how perfect her sit-ups are_.

She taps out at 54 sit ups- hunching over and panting. The split in her lip is finally scabbed over. She licks over it again before flicking her eyes up at him between her staggered bangs. “Don’t talk to me. I need to focus on staying in this school.” 

And ouch, okay, that’s pretty mean. But also- her drive is downright _manly_. Kirishima clenches his fist and nods. “Alright then, let’s focus on these tests!”

And they do. He focuses and she ( _what’s her name? Damn, he totally forgot to ask!_ ) focuses but like he also focuses on how _well_ she’s doing on all of these without a quirk. What’s her quirk? She hasn’t used it yet and she’s running out of opportunities here. Even he used his on the grip strength one!

He tries not to gasp too loud when they do the sitting toe touch and she folds herself in perfect half.

Aizawa hums pensively, looking down at the little tablet in his hands. Kirishima looks up from the girl _still_ impressively holding her heels.

“This is your first outstanding score. You’re still near the bottom of the list, Yamada.” 

She smiles down at her knees and it's full of fangs. Her back cracks as she slinks out of the incredible stretch, settling with her palms against her shins instead. The cocky grin is pointed up. “Near the bottom, but not last?”

And their teacher _smirks_.

“Not too bad for a Quirkless kid if you’re beating some of your Quirked peers like this.” He says it loud enough for the entire room to hear. 

The grin falls from her face.

Even Eijiro feels his face go slack a little. It’s entirely silent because everyone turns their attention from their stretches over to her because she’s-

She’s-

\-----

-Quirkless. Ridiculous. She’s Quirkless and apparently _not_ at the bottom of the assessment list and isn’t that fucking _pathetic_ for whatever students are under her?

He clicks his tongue. It _shouldn’t_ be a dig at him. He knows for a goddamned fact that he’s at the top of the list- probably number one at it too. It’s impossible for someone as great as him to even begin to worry about being under a fucking _Quirkless_ nobody like that.

And yet-

And yet she still made it into this fucking school. Into U.A. Where the best of the best go. So, he has to wonder, what exactly does it mean? What does it mean for every single student in this prestigious school if they’re being beaten out by a fucking Quirkless girl like this when she doesn’t even have any power backing it up?

What does it mean for _Bakugou_ if he’s in the same league as _her_?

\-----

Sakia ignores the stares. 

She ignores the stares and finishes the distance run solidly in the middle. Nobody stands close to her and that red-haired boy stops talking to her and she forcefully thanks the silence. She’d kill someone if they tried talking to her with how pissed she is at their dumbass sensei.

The scoreboard comes up and she’s not last- just 18th. A comfy 18th out of 20th. And then Aizawa tells them all that the expulsion was a ruse to get them to do their best but Sakia has met better liars ( _a flash of silver hair-_ ) than him and knows he’s lying about lying but the green-haired boy who broke his fingers must have been so fucking _inspiring_ that their bedraggled ass of a teacher changed his mind.

Sakia sears the sight of 18th into her mind. If it was 20th, she would have been walking home with all of this meaning nothing. 

So next time, she'd do far better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say that I'm grateful for anyone reading this. I don't need validation on my fics at all but it's so nice to see that anyone is bothering to consume my creation. I couldn't stop being blown away at the fact that there are people give me kudos or comments. Like that's nuts. Thanks you guys :)))))))
> 
> Anyways, here's Sakia's Essay:  
> Why do you want to be a Hero?
> 
> The world is riddled with unfairness- one that exists entirely because of the Heroics system in place. 
> 
> It stems from the rank system and creates this need to be the best. Simply look at the top 2 heroes. The Number One Hero in Japan is All Might. This man is idolized as the exact imagery of heroics. He’s who people hope will save them from petty robberies. He’s what most other students are writing this essay on. But no one knows his name- things that he likes or hates. Nor his hobbies. Nor dream. Not a single personal thing is known about him. 
> 
> The number two hero is Endeavor- who is publicly acknowledged to be callous and rude to his fans. This same hero has domestic abuse rumors floating about him. Yet these allegations are pushed aside in place of admiring his strength. What do these two men say about the Hero Industry?
> 
> The Hero System idolizes quirks over heroics. There’s no longer care for what ideals make a hero. The care is placed entirely on flashy, powerful quirks. This ideal reflects itself in the cultivation of our society and, in turn, the cultivation of its children.
> 
> This ideology was reflected in my middle school. It was reflected in the way other children stole my notebooks and stuck gum in my hair. The quirk-above-all ideology is reflected in the systematic bullying and neglect that I, a Quirkless student, faced. 
> 
> So how does this correlate with why I want to become a hero?
> 
> I’m not arrogant enough to think that I, a singular Quirkless girl, could completely rework the heroics system. 
> 
> There’s a mounting sense of hopelessness that grows with every year that passes. The facelessness and despair that comes with being Quirkless is never acknowledged or discussed. A rough 10% of the entire world’s population is Quirkless. And yet there’s nothing online about large-name figures that are Quirkless.
> 
> To be Quirkless is to fade into obscurity.
> 
> It is the job of a hero to save people. I’m going to save myself.  
> \--  
> Just let it be known, here and now, this is not exactly the reason she's becoming a hero. It deals a lot more with her backstory and shitty personality but it's all going to come into play as things continue. This is just the essay that all the teachers read and fought over. This is also what Aizawa is quoting in his POV section.
> 
> Thanks so much, you guys!


	3. Frostbitten Toes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d meant to update earlier than a whole fucking month- but, like, hmm… I just wasn’t in a writing sort of mind. I had more than half of this chappy just sitting here waiting for a few weeks. Then finals hit. Oopsies- but like, we’re here now.  
> \--  
> So, technically speaking, according to actual BNHA lore,,, the Quirkless population is actually 20%. Why’d I make it smaller? Because there’s lichrally so few actual canon Quirkless people so it seems stupid wild uncommon. Also makes for a more compelling narrative. Love me a lil’ worldbuilding.
> 
> Sorry if yall got a double notification at all. Realized I wrote Ojiro's full name wrong. Fixed some formatting.

She’s Quirkless.

It’s such a simple, little fact that really shouldn’t have that big of an impact on him. She’s Quirkless. And to someone like him, it especially shouldn’t mean anything. It’s just a fact. That’s it. 2 words. She’s Quirkless. 

So why does it _seem_ like a big deal?

The sky is blue. All Might is the Number One Hero in Japan. Cherry blossoms are pink. His finger is broken. U.A’s Hero Course is the best on this side of Japan. She is Quirkless.

Midoriya sits numbly on the cot in the nurse’s room. Recovery Girl’s voice ( _OmigodOmigod- Recovery Girl, the Youthful Heroine! She’s renowned across the country for her super rare healing Quirk! She’s still going at it too with an impressive decades-long track record even when most Pros would be retired by now-_ ) echoes blankly in his head. It’s something about how reckless it is to break his finger like this- how he should be more careful but none of it registers because Izuku will never get better with One For All if he never uses it. Instead, he thinks about-

She’s Quirkless. 

What’s even the big deal with it? Quirklessness isn’t _that_ uncommon. Izuku’s never met other Quirkless people, sure- but it _is_ statistically about 10% of the world’s population. 700 million people. A heaping tenth of the entire world with no unique ability. 

But he can’t get her furious eyes out of his head. Molten gold corroding souls. Hair oxidizing down her back in uneven stands of rust. Red, red blood dripping from her split lip and into the pristine U.A. soil. The dead-eyed look on her face- a declaration of killer-sorts of intent honed straight at their teacher, Underground Pro Hero _Eraserhead_ : the Erasure Hero. Clenched hands and bared teeth lined with crimson. 

She’s one of 700 million. A 10th of the population- seven-hundred-million Quirkless people who have stable Quirkless jobs and Quirkless lives. They settle comfortably and live and-

_None of them are heroes._

Izuku jerks up in his seat.

And right into Recovery Girl’s big wet kiss on his cheek. ( _He screams. He doesn’t mean to- but who wouldn’t scream when smacking their face right into a wet granny kiss like that?_ )

“Oh! Thanks, that feels so much better-” He slumps over because _man,_ his eyes feel so heavy now, “but, uh, I suddenly feel _really_ tired. I need a nap.”

Recovery Girl chirps back the specifics of her Quirk- about energy and healing- but Midoriya already _knows_ that because he has notes on it in his Hero Analysis notebooks. He holds his hand out thoughtlessly for the Pez-candy that she gives him and holds still when she wraps a bandage around his finger even though it feels perfect now.

And when he stumbles past the threshold- tiredly trudging out of school- he _really_ thinks about it.

Midoriya Izuku can’t get Yamada Hanako out of his head not because she’s Quirkless- but because she’s Quirkless and _here._ She stared their teacher right in the eye as he talked about the unfairness of the world and scowled so hard that her already bleeding lip bled more. Bared her teeth at the system and- and- _and-_

A hand claps down on his shoulder. Midoriya jerks around to face it nervously. “Huh? Oh- Hey there, Iida-san!”

~~_(((And did what Midoriya couldn’t.)))_ ~~

\-----

“Oi, oi, oi, open up, jackass!” The heel of her foot thumps repeatedly against the door. 

Sakia _knows_ she’s not being quiet. At all. It’s nearly 2 in the morning and she was waiting for this bastard. Who cares if the other people on this floor can hear her knocking? The lady in 34C is shady. Sakia is shady. The dude in 37C is shady. Keihi is shady. Every single person in this apartment building knows to mind their fucking business.

She jiggles the knob and rattles the door. Her socked foot keeps kicking at it. “C’mon, I know you’re in there. Open up, Asshole.” She starts scratching at the beaten wood like a cat- chipped-polish nails catching against the grain.

The door is wrenched open. “What the _fuck_ do you _want_?”

Keihi seethes- face peeking out between the chain-locked sliver cracked open. His makeup is fucked up- cheeks and forehead shiny with oil and sweat. His lipstick is smeared, the bright red pigment blurred way past his lip lines and leading off towards his cheek. Perfect blue nails are curled around the doorframe. 

He always looks like a hot fucking mess anyway so Sakia shrugs it off.

“Oh, you won’t _believe_ the day I had for orientation today!” She throws her head back, rolling her eyes. Her teeth grit at even the _thought_ of that disheveled Pro Bastard. 

She leans forward- pitching towards the door on her toes. Her teeth click and she smacks her tongue against them. “The Pro bastard that teaches my class was _definitely_ pickin’ on me for being Quirkless. Wanted to shove my fist right up his-” She staggers a step closer because what the _fuck_ is Keihi waiting for? Sakia’s looking for a chance to rant and he’s the only motherfucker in this town that’ll spare the time so-

“Oh, piss off.” 

Sakia’s brow twitches. She tilts her head enough to peek through the door at his clock and _Hmm, no, yeah it’s only 1:47. I know this bitch didn’t work a full shift, so_ , “ _Hah?_ What the fuck did you say?”

“You’re misunderstanding.” The door strains the chain-lock with a metal squeak. Keihi smiles but it’s not in his eyes the right way- all sugary and customer-servicy. “I really don’t give a shit, Hanako-me.”

She grits her teeth and shoves her hands roughly into her sides to push away the feeling of tingly fingers and the taste of zebra cakes. Her throat burns but she fans those flames so her mouth is volcanic. Her smile is glass dipped into the fires of hell- glowing orange and dripping like lava. 

“I didn’t ask if you gave a shit, Keihi.”

He shrugs- at least, what little of him is showing. The smile on his face droops and it’s an apathetic pout the moment after she blinks.

“No, you didn’t. I still don’t care. I’m tired and I worked today and it really doesn’t matter what happened at U.A. today because it’s going to happen every day.” He frowns- clown mouth warping the smeared lipstick with wrinkles and cracks. “You’ve been Quirkless your whole life and you _still_ decided to become a hero. This was gonna happen. That’s just how it fucking is.”

Sakia shoves her shaking fingers into her pockets. She’s scowling- doesn’t know when her smile turned into it, but her teeth are bared at him and none of it is cocky or smug. Just _scowling_. 

He rolls his eyes. His nails tap against the door. “You’re gonna be the first Quirkless hero. It doesn’t matter what happens from this day until your fucking graduation. None of that tiny little shit matters. Not the teacher or the students. What matters is that you pull through and tear apart the system. So suffer. I don’t care. Graduate at the end of it and _leave me the hell alone for tonight_.”

The door slams shut. 

Sakia’s nails dig into her hand and she glares at the raggedy-ass wood. The fading gold _35C_ glares back at her. 

_Grape medicine and cheap cherry chapstick and charcoal ash and blood- Zebra Cakes Zebra Cakes ZebraCakesZebraCakesZebraCakes-_

She pivots and scrunches her toes in her shoes. The prickle of pain on the meat of her palms tells her that she needs to keep her hands in her pockets but it won’t matter this late at night. Sakia’s sure that Glowstick Sato might be awake and around. Her knuckles are burning and her split lip could use another bust.

She needs to taste more blood.

\-----

_“So what happens when you add this component is that the seal should then have a coolant effect. It’s not exactly like the Freeze array- but this way, it won’t clash with the Stagnate Matrice, see?” Her burned fingers trace the curly, delicate script on the paper. The burns have browned, days-old blisters cracked and scabbed already._

_Fairer fingers follow along after hers._

_“Maaah, I don’t get it!”_

_The marks on his cheeks contort all funny with the exaggerated frown he’s got on. She’s got half a mind to laugh at him but laughing at him now would_ **_not_ ** _help this dumbass. He’s got a shiny look in his bright, blue eyes and even she’s not cruel enough to spit in his face like that._

_She_ **_is_ ** _still cruel enough to tell him, “Huh?! What aren’t you getting? You’re supposed to be a natural at this- it’s like, what your fucking clan was known for!”_

_His golden hair brushes against her cheek with how close they’re both leaning into the scroll. And he readiates heat- which should be a fucking crime because it’s already hot and humid in their country!_

_“Clan-shman! I’m an orphan too so it doesn’t matter!” He crows it right into her ear. His blue, blue, blue eyes squint and sharp canines shine in the overbearing noon sun._

_He’s still tracing over the script though. Following her fingers around the vectors and arrays. She pauses on the swirl._

_“Yeah, but you have a last name. So your clan must’ve been important.”_

_He lowers his voice. “Dun’n matter, y’know? I didn’t grow up with a clan so whatever about it.”_

_His fingers finally follow her’s over the swirl._

_It’s stupid- but their fingers meet in the middle. And she can’t look away. It’s only a seal- a food storage one because the fridges in their apartment complex fuckin’ sucks ass- but she’s sitting here with the Loud-Mouth with too-bright everything, leaning into each other’s shoulders with fingers together on a stolen scroll._

_He looks up at her and his tan cheeks are pink. “I still wanna learn about this, though. Sounds good for pranks n’ stuff, y’hear?”_

_The corners of her mouth curl up softly- not even the littlest bit feral. It’s a_ **_sweet_ **_smile; A gooey smile like she sees on the faces of dumb-dumb civilian grown-ups who- “Yeah, yeah. Just keep up, Deadlast._ ”

Sakia’s eyes snap wide. Her cheeks are wet.

\-----

The door slides neatly open and every voice in the room drops dead. 

Sakia’s nails dig into the doorframe. The strain on her beaten hand makes the bruises on her knuckles sore. Nineteen pairs of eyes watch her, absolutely fucking _silent_ as she unclaws her hand from the doorframe and doesn’t meet any of them. Her feet move her robotically to her desk- the tapping of her shoes against the pristine floor echoing. Her swollen cheek feels like a glowing beacon with how hard everyone is staring at her. 

She sinks into her chair. As it squeaks, whispers start up. 

Sakia’s leg starts bouncing. She keeps her eyes focused on the blank board even with the weight of a thousand stares on the back of her head.

“H-hey, uhm…” 

Sakia’s lips peel back. The old split on her lip protests angrily but doesn’t open back up- which fucking _sucks_ because Sakia could use an excuse to go to the nurse right about now. Would the U.A. nurse even see her for a split lip? Or is shit like that expected for Heroics students?

“You’re Yamada-san, right? I’m… Kirishima Eijiro. From the entrance exam? And the- and the apprehension test?” He stutters another step forward and she can see the stupid bright red in her peripheral now. Her forefinger taps erratically against the desk- out of rhythm with her bouncing leg.

He must take her obvious ‘ _Leave me the hell alone’_ silence as ‘ _Yes, come closer and keep bothering me_ ’ because he slides right up next to her- just, fucking, _inches_ from her desk. 

She snaps her blackboard glare over to him- right at the little space between his skinny red eyebrows. She fucking focuses _hard_ on the little timid scrunch there because she does _not_ want to see the shitty earnest look in his eyes. She knows exactly what fucking question he’s going to ask. Everyone in this room wants to ask it. He’s gonna ask her-

“Is it true?” His eyebrows are turned up. She flicks her eyes down for _just_ a second and meets his stare dead-on. He’s confused- _(big, blue confused eyes staring at her as she explains about- about… about what..?_ )- confused in that _‘I don’t really believe it and I don’t want to’_ way. 

What the hell does he have to worry about it being true? What would _he_ understand about it being true? About what will happen if it’s true? _Making such a dumbass face like the answer will affect_ ** _him_ ** _, huh?_ Sakia clicks her teeth and the jolt of bone meeting bone makes her bruised, swollen cheek throw a fit. 

“Is _what_ true?” Oh, she bites it out without meaning to. Snarls and snaps her fangs like a wild dog. She doesn’t blink or turn away because she _wants_ to hear him admit it. Wants to see this boy’s face twist up all nasty as he understands that _it_ is true.

The fingers of his left hand clench and unclench- like he’s _nervous_ about accusing her. Like _he’s_ going to be outcast. His dumb mouth opens again and he asks her, _sheepishly_ , “That you’re- that you’re… _Quirkless..?_ ”

Gods, he even fucking whispers it like it’s a forbidden word. 

Like a _slur_. 

Sakia’s eyebrows hurt with how far down they dig into her eyes. The pressure behind her glare should pierce through his skull. She wants him to sense her glare mentally. Physically. Metaphysically. Spiritually. Sakia wants his astral body to get stabbed with her eyes. 

He starts to frantically wave his hands- the color both fading from his body and flooding his cheeks. Sakia has _never_ seen someone both pale and blush like that. Disgusting. 

“It’s- It’s just that- I thought that you said your Quirk was- _wasn’t_ like, combat-related! I remember during the entrance exam you said that, right? So why would Aizawa-sensei say that you were- that _you’re_ -”

“Quirkless.” She cuts him off. There’s no beating around any bushes because Sakia has never been one to beat at any kind of foliage. Waste of time. Everyone in the room is watching and listening and just this insignificant, tucked away part of her buzzes uncomfortably _(-not even a whole day. Was it too much to ask-?_ ). 

Sakia leans forward in her chair, leering up at him. The scowl on her face twinges up because of _course_ she smiles like a shark in a moment like this. She smiles until it hurts her sore cheek and _keeps_ going so it hurts his eyes too.

“You’re a dumbass.” He flinches back. Sakia does not. “I said I didn’t have a way to destroy robots. Nothin’ about a fucking Quirk.”

There’s a spark in those eyes. Oh, he’s certainly remembering now. The pin-drop nothing in the room is fucking _oppressive._ Her nails drill into the table but the grain of it is so fine that she’s not leaving scratches. Her knuckles burn and her mouth tastes like fuckin’ cheap, bloody frosting. 

“I’m _Quirkless._ ”

Sakia turns back to the blackboard.

There's a weak exhale from him. She steels her nerves. A brief shuffle, tremoring breath, and… 

"Oh… _sorry._ "

Rage tears at her lungs anyways.

_Sorry? Sorry?! Is he apologizing because I'm fucking_ ** _Quirkless_** _?_ Sakia's teeth squeak from the strain. She’s heard a lot of shit but never a fucking _apology._ _What kind of self-righteous, thick-skulled bullshit is that?_ She snaps her neck to _spit_ something at him, something corrosive and bitter and cruel-

The desk behind her slams into her chair. 

She bites down on her tongue because her gut smacks right into her own desk. Her knees bang up into the table too and now _all_ of her everything is sore because of the _asshole_ sitting behind her.

_What the fuck?!_

“How’d a Quirkless _nobody_ like you make it into _U.A_?” 

Burning vermillion strikes sparks against hardened amber. 

Sakia soaks in the twisted up face of the pale-blond dumbass sitting behind her. She’s gonna punch in his pretty face the moment she has the _chance_. Ram her bruised knuckles into his high cheekbones until they swell up just like her cheek. Claw at his flawless forehead until blood drips into his eyes and he fucking _suffers_ -

The class door slides open. “Alright, that’s enough. Take your seats.”

Sakia turns her clenched-tooth grimace right back to the blackboard. The scabbed up crescents on her palms sting as she digs her nails right back into them even through the bandages.

\-----

There’s an odd tension in most of the students. It blankets over the room in a way that’s blissfully oppressive because they’re all _quiet_. Some seem a bit confused. A little outraged, even. 

He watches the bone-breaking boy, _Midoriya_ , lean in his seat just to cast a conflicted stare at the seething girl two seats ahead.

_Ah,_ Aizawa internally nods, _That’s it. Forgot about that_. 

Or, well, he’d chosen to forget about that last night. It’s not really important when he’s busy patrolling and working on cases. It’s just a single Quirkless girl in one of the most prestigious hero schools in Japan. Not a big deal when he has murders and kidnappings to worry about. 

Her hands are wrapped in cheap roll gauze- and they’re _shaking_ as she forces all her barely-contained rage at the chalkboard. The pencil in her hand is lead-less _and_ erasers; A useless pencil. 

Aizawa taps lazy fingers against the chalkboard right where he’s scrawled in some sloppy information about the learning system- baseless blurbs about the classes and schedule. 

He ripped off that bandage as soon as possible. Maybe it was a bit cruel of him ( _hmm, those bruises weren’t from the other students, right? No, not fresh enough_ ), but there’s no point in _hiding_ that she’s Quirkless. There were rumors floating about in the papers already. And if it’s causing him a headache so soon into the year, the little punk should have to shoulder that too. 

He needed her to understand that it’s a pure stroke of luck that she’d made it into U.A’s hero course. Luck ( _and pure brilliance_ _)_ and whatever nefarious schemes Nedzu was brewing _._ And that stroke of luck wouldn’t carry her through this class. Through these _years_ , if she managed to crawl along that long.

Still, 18th. 

She’d placed higher than two other students. Higher than Mineta, the boy with sticky hair, and _Midoriya,_ the strength-augmenter. Two students with _Quirks_.

The only Quirkless kid to ever attend U.A, the heroics program no less, and she’d managed to place higher in a Quirk test than two other students. If her junior-high academics were anything to go by- she’d start climbing the ranks _fast_.

Aizawa scratches at his beard. 

Heroics classes would probably knock her down. But even then… 

She has a new bruise on her right cheek. 

It’s fresh- still purple-red and swollen- curling from her cheekbone to her jaw. He can see where knuckles hit the most- splotches of darker purple spaced between it. Her split lip is scabbed over. The little peeks of her knuckles through the cheap bandages show that they’re equally roughed up. 

…Even then, she’d probably give as much as she got. 

_(She’s so skinny. A little girl with the whole world to watch if she soared or sunk. There were already speculative articles out there because some of the student body had posted it on social media. And she’s sitting here, in a classroom where she statistically shouldn’t be. Her wrists are so flimsy and her face is all battered. And a pinched off, jaded part of Aizawa wonders ever so fleetingly if those bruises are from…_ )

She meets his eyes with that same melting fury. 

( _“I’m going to save myself.”_ )

Aizawa cuts his train of thought off. No way this skinny brat would sit silent through something like that. Not with what he’d already seen of her.

For her own good, Yamada Hanako better pour all that anger into this course. Because Aizawa has no qualms kicking her from this school if she fails to meet par- thin wrists or not.

\-----

“ _Uhm..._ Did you hear that rumor about class 1-A this year?” 

“Hmm, no, I haven’t heard anything yet. What rumor, huh?”

“Oh, I heard that one of the students is… _Quirkless..._ ”

Sakia bites down too hard on her chopsticks. And _chokes_. Grains of rice stick to her throat and the metal twang of teeth on steel reverberates in her head.

“Isn’t that crazy?”

Sakia would lie and say that her appetite is gone- but really it’s more that her stomach is filled with a world-consuming rage. 

“What? No way! You’re pullin’ my leg!”

And to be world-consuming is to be _hungry_. Rage is a bitter fire and all flames _must_ be fed. She shovels more of that _sweet, sweet_ white rice into her mouth. She can multitask. Be angry _and_ eat at the same time. Even though her teeth hurt and she’s still wheezing a little. 

“Nuh-uh, I heard it from Tsuruki. And she heard it from _Hachimitsu_.”

“There’s no way a Quirkless person could make it into U.A. _Especially_ not the Hero Course. Hachimitsu-senpai _has got_ to be lying.”

That deep part of her wishes ever-so-quietly for just _ten_ fuckin’ minutes of peace. Not even lunch period could pass without reminding her again that _Oh, you’re Quirkless. A Quirkless shouldn’t be here. We keep reminding you because we’re stupid fuck-faces and not a single bitch in this school can stand to have an original thought._

Sakia stabs her mismatched steel chopsticks into her school lunch repeatedly. There’s not a single other person sitting at the table with her so it’s fine to display murderous tendencies. It’s fine. Stabbing chicken seven times is fine. 

And since no one stops her or says anything- the rest of lunch passes _uneventfully_.

Really, all of everything passes uneventfully. 

Right up until _All Fuckin’ Might_ bursts through the class door. And how grand is it that Sakia will have the Symbol of Peace terrorizing her daily because he teaches her _Heroics_ class?

The press of her jagged nails into her palms isn’t _good_ for the already scabbed and tender cuts there. Sakia knows that messing with cuts like that will scar and yet those crooked nails are the only thing keeping her from _frothing at the fucking mouth_. From jumping at him and kicking and clawing and drawing blood. She wants this motherfucker to _bleed-_

“Today’s training will pull no punches!” He’s still fucking _smiling_ ; All bright white teeth and everyone in the class is practically _vibrating_ with excitement because All Might is their _hero!_

Sakia wants to rip out every single one of his big dumb teeth and pulverize them to dust. 

“But one of the keys of being a real hero is..!” Japanese Number One Hero, All Might, Teacher of U.A’s Class 1-A’s Heroics Course, gestures dramatically to the draws that pop out of the wall, “Lookin’ good!”

( _Deep breaths, deep breaths- there is decades to tear apart the system, Sakia-_ )

“Get yourself suited up! And meet me at training ground Beta!”

Sakia is the first to leave the room.

\-----

Ojiro Mashirao tries not to stare too blankly at the lot he’s pulled. 

But really, it’s sort of difficult.

There’s nothing unique about it. It’s a white ball with the letter I on it. That’s all. It’s shiny and brand new- but it’s still just a plain white ball with a black letter print. The thing that makes it special is that… 

Yellow eyes glare into his. 

The corners of her eyes scrunch up into a sarcastic eye-smile. She lifts her lot ball up.

It’s an I. 

He lifts his own ball and tries to manage a friendly smile. 

Her eyes flick to his tail and there’s suddenly a lot more irritation in her expression. 

( _He knows they’re both probably thinking the same thing. With his mutation Quirk, and her, ah, not to be rude, Quirklessness, they don’t make for a heavy hitter team…_ ) 

She still stands there, head tilted slightly. Her face is mostly covered by a cloth mask from the bridge of her nose down- and yet, something about the twitch of her eyebrows and squinted eyes reads as _annoyed_. 

Ojiro sighs and walks towards her first. 

He stops a polite handful of steps away and nods down at her. “You’re Yamada-san, right? I’m Oji-”

“Are the gi and blackbelt for show?”

His lips twist up. She doesn’t break eye contact- back still turned to _All Might_ even as he begins explaining how the teams will be paired up. 

“Do you have martial arts training or not?” She clenches her hands impatiently- and Mashirao has to remind himself _not_ to respond just as shortly because this girl is _Quirkless_. She’d already been heckled this morning- and she was probably expecting something from _him_ too. And there isn't really a subtle way to say ' _Hey, I have nothing against Quirkless people. I'm fact, my dojo instructor was one!_ ' without sounding like an ass.

Instead, he breathes in and squares his shoulders. “Yes.”

He'd just have to _show_ this rude, short girl that her Quirkless status didn't matter to him.

She huffs and finally turns away to face their teacher. "This won't be hopeless, then." 

It wouldn't be easy, though.

It's silent between the two of them- only All Might's convoluted explanation filling the air. ( _And how exciting is that? It’s really him, All Might! Ojiro’s no Hero buff- but it’s still the Number One Hero. Everyone loves All Might!)_

"Right! Let's go to the observation room while the first teams set up!" All Might bellows cheerfully. The class follows him- except the four chosen for the first exercise. 

Her nails tap over and over on the _unmatching_ wooden bat she’s got holstered. 

The bat goes with her persona, sure- but not with the Hero get-up she’s donned. She’s wearing dark colors- variants of blues and grays that are so dark they’re nearly black. A pair of fingerless gloves sit on her hands- and from under them come wrapped bandages that follow all the way to her mid-upper arms. Her face is covered mostly by that odd cloth mask- leaving only her eyes and up out. She’s got on what looks like sweatpants. One thigh is wrapped a little in the same bandages. Those bandages also cover her shins into her shoes. The shoes are odd little blue boots ( _that almost,_ **_almost_ **_remind him of, like, that retro blue hedgehog game character_ ). 

She’s kinda dressed like a knock-off storybook ninja.

Surely she’d respond positively to at least base-level pleasantries? This is his first grade in the Heroics class and he’d very much like to pass it. They would pass this exercise better if they were amicable acquaintances, right?

Ojiro settles next to her- where she’s standing away from all their classmates in the back. "Ah, your costume is cool. Are you a fan of Edgeshot?" He smiles pleasantly at her. 

She scoffs. "Who the fuck is that?"

He blanches. 

“A-ah… The Number 5 hero..?”

She flicks a side-eye up at him. Her honey eyes glint coldly even with the minimal light coming from the monitors. Her nails ( _covered in slick black polish. Geez, she really fell into that delinquent imagery, huh?)_ grit into the wood of her out-of-place bat. He can hear her teeth click as she grinds them.

“Stop talking to me. I’m busy.” Her eyes snap back to the screens with steely focus.

Oh boy, this exercise is looking less and less passable. 

Ojiro inches awkwardly closer to the rest of the students. He tries not to let his shoulders tense _or_ slump with how heated her glare is on the back of his head. He can _feel_ her glare. He ignores it best as possible and maybe sends a quick prayer to some local kami that maybe they _will_ beat whoever they go against. 

The first match goes perfectly smooth. Team G and Team C fight to their best and, in the end, Team G wins. There’s not a single major injury besides some static-y hair and bruised egos. 

The next fight between that Deku guy and Bakugou is a _wreck_. 

Everything about it is brutal and messy and if _that_ was between _classmates, what would fighting a real villain be like?_

The pit of his chest twists uncomfortably. None of that was honorable. That Bakugou guy was gunning for _blood_. He could’ve _killed_ Midoriya. 

Ojiro tries not to audibly exhale when the I lot ball is pulled next. 

“Alright, Team I as the Heroes! Against…” All Might sticks his hand into the villain box and roots around, “Team B as Villains!”

To follow up a match like that..?

Ojiro’s not religious, really. 

He sends out another prayer as he makes his way to the designated building. 

Yamada Hanako stares critically down at the floorplan of the building. Ojiro tries to inch respectfully closer but not _too_ close. They _have to_ formulate a plan here. They only have 5 minutes here. Ojiro _can’t_ see this team winning if they go in blind. 

Her eyes flick up to meet his. Her stare is _intense_. 

“Oi,” She shoves the paper into his hands, “How fast can you memorize that?”

He glances down at the paper and there _must_ be something on his face that says he can’t in time because she clicks her tongue sharply, “Ah, forget it. Can you lift your own bodyweight?”

“Yes.” These are odd questions. Ojiro stares down at the floorplan and back at her and, nope, he really can’t see what she’s thinking here. 

The corners of her eyes crinkle up in what _might_ be a menacing smile. 

Her hand darts forward and digs into the fur lining his gi before he can escape it. She pulls him closer ( _and whoa, whoa, whoa- where was she hiding all that upper arm strength? He tries to jerk back but she’s got a solid grip on him-_ ). “Listen up. I’m only covering this once and I’m not arguing with you. Either you fuckin’ listen and follow what I say or I kick _your_ ass. Got any problems with that?”

He tries to shake off her hand subtly. She claws her nails into the furs tighter. His jaw twitches and he can see from this close- the shadows on her mask- that she’s _smirking_. 

He doesn’t think that he can manage a yes, so he nods.

“Good.” She lets go of his costume. “Both of the other teams have gone through the front door.”

He nods. It’s a basic idea- the front door, but it’s heroic to be blatant and upfront, so it makes sense to-

“That’s stupid. We’re not going to do that.” Her nails tap slowly against her bat- _pensively._ She tilts her head and Ojiro finally looks away from the map to look at her.

She’s staring at the building. 

“Missions like this are about reconnaissance.” Her eyes narrow. She jerks forward slightly, chin dipping down as she _glares_ at the building. “We’ll climb through a window.”

_Oh,_ Ojiro thinks, _this is already a better plan than what I had hoped for._

She tilts her head the other way and her fingers tensely clench and unclench. The gleam in her eye has no good reason to be _that_ excited. 

Her arms cross and he can _see_ the racing thoughts in her brain. “I don’t know what their quirks are for certain. One of them has something to do with ice based on his costume. The other had high scores in strength during the quirk assessment. He changes his arms into other body parts, though. I’ve seen him use a mouth during class. It’s possible that he can change it to be other sensory extremities…”

Yamada Hanako looks back up at him. “We’ll need to split up. It will divide their force and attention. They’ll be expecting you to go after the ‘weapon’, possibly, since I’m _Quirkless_.”

He opens his mouth- maybe to say something about how it doesn’t matter that she’s Quirkless or that her plan so far sounds fantastic- but she beats him to it.

“I can see the weapon in the window from here- they must think they’re strong enough to beat us without hiding it. Cocky. I’ll climb in on the weapon floor. You’ll climb in the floor above me. Make a lot of sound. But not too much. Just a clumsy amount. Understand?”

She finally blinks and Ojiro’s mouth snaps shut. He nods- thumbs pressing creases into the blueprint papers still in his hands. He understands why she’d been the first to turn in the Entrance exam test-

Ojiro Mashirao understands why Yamada Hanako is in the Hero Course. 

( _Once again, my Instagram is @Soft_Chismosa. Or whatever..._ ) 

\-----

“I’m engaging with Mezo-san!”

Sakia tugs at an annoying strand of her hair. _Of course, I’d have to deal with the Ice Bastard._

“Alright. Either capture or eliminate. Keep him distracted as long as possible.” She doesn’t need to- but she presses her fingers to her ear-mic. A habit. She’s never used it before but it’s a habit from somewhere ( _A cat- capture a cat-_ ) . 

She shakes her head. There’s no time to think about weird habits. She wriggles her toes in her shoes and recalls which part of the map she’s in. “Will not be responding onwards. Closing in on target.” 

The burn in her thighs as she creeps low to the ground is _almost_ familiar. Some of the longer bits of her hair sweep at the dusty floor. 

_There is three more type ‘o’ rooms between me and the target. The target is an ‘m’ type room. The blueprint so far has been perfectly accurate. There are no sounds coming from the designated room. The door is wide open-_

The door is wide open. 

Not at all barred or barricaded. There’s nothing stopping her from walking in. 

God, the Ice Fucker even has his _back_ turned at the moment. He’s boredly standing in the room- staring blankly at the wall, only a few feet from the pseudo-bomb. 

Sakia creeps into the room and carefully tucks herself behind a column. 

All she _really_ needs to do is touch the stupid bomb. 

( _She’s contemplating if she wants to win the exercise. Or kick the other team’s ass. Winning would be better for the grade she’d get in this class. She’s 18th rank right now. But also- this is the son of Number Two Pro-Hero Endeavor. There’s no way this red-white bitch_ **_doesn’t_ ** _deserve a punch in the mouth with a pedigree like that_.)

Sakia faintly registers buzzed murmuring coming from his headset. She tenses- because she’s not hearing anything from Tail Motherfucker-

_“Yamada-san- Mezo-san has just- Hn! confirmed that we’re both in the- ack! -in the building!”_

Icy’s clothes shuffle slightly. It’s the only warning she gets.

He ices the whole goddamned building. 

It crawls across the ceiling and walls and columns and _encases her fucking feet from the ankle down-_

“ _Shit!”_

She bites down on her tongue but it’s not like it matters. It’s too late.

“Ah, so you were here.”

Her eyelid twitches. The cold sweat down her back feels all the more freezing. She jerks her legs around. There’s not much give.

He walks around the ice-covered room with ease _just_ to face her. And then he opens his stupid mouth.

“You’re stuck to the floor. It’s useless. Unless you want to tear off layers of your skin.” He says it so _pointedly-_ in that stupid rich boy infliction that _screams_ ‘ _I’ve never had anyone tell me I’m wrong because my Daddy’s the Number Two Hero in Japan_ ’. 

Her hands clench so tight that her bruised knuckles feel tender ( _-punch him in the mouth punch him in the mouth punchhiminthemouth- he’srighttherec’mon-_ ). She throws herself around more- _and her feet jolt around in her iced-up shoes_.

He scoffs anyway- red-lens gleaming in the fluorescent light. “Don’t bother. You’re Quirkless. I’m objectively stronger than you. This is a losing battle.”

Oh, she already wasn’t going to give up. 

_Now she was going to forget about winning._

_She was gonna punch him in the fuckin’ mouth._

_She’s gonna_ ** _bruise_ **_him._

He turns to grab his capture tape. 

She slides out of her shoes.

_The ice is fucking freezing on her unbound toes_.

His hair is silky. Probably an expensive conditioner. Tears out just the same though. Silky strands all tangled up in her hand. 

Sakia pulls his fucking hair. 

He has only a second to make an annoyed sound. 

She nails him in the side. With her bat.

The first blast of ice frosts over her bat. She swings at the ice spikes. 

Her toes are cold every second they spend in this room.

_But her blood is racing hot._

The burn of her grin hurts her cheek. 

It’s mostly to show off- but she fuckin’ _dances_ around his stupid ice columns- she spins and twists and flips and bats the shit outta them. When she lands from another backbend- the grim acceptance on his face-

She laughs.

_Don’t bother, I’m objectively stronger than you._

The next ice blast? She slides past it. Closer. 

She’s closing in, bitch! 

Her ears buzz. He’s slowing down.

_(Hypothermia. Developing. Short breaths, shaking hands. Shivering. His nose is bright pink. Knuckles blushed-_ )

His eyebrow presses down on his grey eye. He’s _pissed._ He throws his fist at her face.

She lets it meet her nose. Tangles her hand right back into his hair.

She’s _breathless-_

The burst of pain is gone immediately. But her nose feels slick. On the inside. Running.

_(Blunt force to it. Can’t breathe as easy. Runny. But not mucus. Runs too fast. Blood. Soaking into her mask- It’s broken, maybe. Can’t tell-)_

She throws her head forward. Her forehead smacks his nose _right back_. 

Frost creeps up her arm-

She jabs her thumb _right into_ his brachial plexus. _(He whimpers- or gasps. It’s full of pain-_ ) 

Her feet are stuck to the floor again. Her toes are numb.

_(Hypothermia. Developing. Short breaths, shaking-)_

She rips her mask down. The smeared blood on her face keeps dripping down her chin.

_She smiles with bloody teeth_. Frozen feet will not stop her.

_Make him bleed make him bleed makehimbleed-_

He throws another fist at her face- _Useless. He’s pissed. Hands shaking._

She grabs his wrist and _BITES._

Ice encases her from the fuckin’ waist down. 

She’s lost. They’ve lost. 

She’s stuck in place with a broken nose and frostbitten feet and blood covering her already swollen face and she’s lost the damned exercise.

He’s _seething_. 

Hunched shoulders, face flushed and frosted, nose broken and blood down his damn chin too. His left arm is limp. His right hand is dripping maroon onto the iced floor. His hair is a goddamn mess. 

She laughs in his sullen face. Viscous and loud. 

“A.. And the villains win!” All Might yells over the intercom. 

Icy jolts. Sakia’s teeth click together. He parts his lips- maybe to speak and be smug but-

Sakia spits blood on his shoes. 

He jerks forward. His hands clench up and his face _finally_ twists up with _pure, pure_ anger. The adrenaline in her blood leaves her body quickly- cold sweat down her back. The excitement and _smugness_ stays. White, white shoes just splattered in her spitty blood. 

She meets his eyes.

“Don’t _bother_ ,” Her mouth is curled up all cocky, voice all syrupy, “You’ve already won, huh?”

Icy, Bloody, Hypothermic Dumbass grimaces and the look staring back at her says that he doesn’t care about winning anymore either. 

Yeah, she _‘lost’,_ alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn't think that I was going to make the class 1-A kiddos nice, did you? Not when contextual evidence shows everyone in Midoriya's Junior High either bullying or ignoring him? Nah, we don't make Mary Sues here. Actually, we don't even make 100% kind characters here at all. Everyone's a little mean and biased even if they think they aren't. Except Ojiro. Love that guy. 
> 
> Also, Innit kinda funny that Bakugou is canonically attractive? Like I had to look that up and, yes, apparently, he’s a pretty boy. 
> 
> Other unrelated side note. I know they haven’t interacted just yet but like this is incredibly likely to end up a Sakia/Midoriya fic. Y'all got any other ideas who she’d possibly end up with? Cuz I’m open to suggestions and it's possible that she might just bounce around romance-wise before settling with one person but I can’t really think of who else besides Midoriya that she’d mesh well with (and I'm talking ANYONE. Fuckit type shit. Sakia is probably pan). 
> 
> I will tell you rn that romance IS a stupidly far-off concept. Like I’ve got plans about this and Sakia is not emotionally available for romance at the moment. But giving me suggestions now allows me time to plan it. (2/16 Note: this one is still in effect! If you're reading this at a far later date than this chapter was posted- feel free to drop a suggestion anyways! This is, at the moment, STILL a very far off concept)
> 
> Another question. Would you guys be interested in seeing more ‘Hero Course’ exercises? I might do a bit more world-building and throw some more in there because it’ll let me flesh out high school struggles n’ shit but like I don’t wanna bore y’all. I just want to maybe fit in that scene in the summary where she breaks Iida’s arm at some point n’ I feel like that would be before the USJ. IDKIDK lemme know.


	4. Cracked Ulna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, in my notes, to myself: Okay so Midoriya is the Main character so how do I write Sakia as a side character?? How tf would Midoriya react to meeting a Quirkless person doing what he couldn’t-? (Goes on a tangent psychoanalyzing Midoriya in my already 10pg document)
> 
> No one said anything about more hero course exercises, but I love to world-build so I did it anyways. We’re breaking arms, babes.
> 
> (Heads up, there are mentions of abuse in this chapter.)

“Alright, dearie, what hurts, and how much on a scale from 1 to 10?”

Surgeon-steady hands pick up her own beaten ones. Diligent eyes scan over her bloody everything before settling on the streaks of smeared blood down her chin. 

Sakia ignores the stern stare on the side of her face for several seconds. She keeps direct eye-contact with the broken-nose ice-bitch. Doesn’t blink. Watches the way his own broke nose is still dripping red, soaks into the crack of his lips and down his chin. Streaks his porcelain little face with deep red- darker than the red of his burnt eye or choppy hair-

“Yamada.” 

She flicks her eyes over.

Aizawa-Bastard throws a pointed glare at her. Sakia decides that,  _ Fine, I guess my time could be better spent responding instead of mean mugging Halvsie-Bastard.  _ She still returns a scowl at their vigilant Pro-Bastard teacher. 

Who did he think he was, escorting her and Icy to the nurse’s? Did he think Sakia would fight Icy with a broken nose on the way here? 

He’s right. What a missed opportunity, though. 

Sakia’s not one to disrespect a medic, though. Hard work. Lots of memorization. And an absence of personal morals- can’t let anything emotional get in the way. Sakia could never manage it.

She dips her head. Sweaty strands of her hair stick to her cheeks and neck. The turtleneck and pulled down mask are starting to itch against her blood-crusted skin. 

“Nose is broken- needs realignment. Split lip is days old. So are the abrasions on my knuckles. And the cheek bruise.” Sakia pauses. She wiggles her toes. They’re still a bit numb- tingling painfully with every second she moves them, “My feet are frost-nipped.” 

Recovery Girl ( _ what a stupid, stupid name for an experienced medic. Ages of medical history and she was still called a  _ **_girl_ ** _ -)  _ hums pensively. She prods carefully at Sakia’s nose.

“Oh!” Recovery Girl smiles  _ ruefully _ , “About time that you have a student who understands what they’re doing to themselves, Eraserhead.”

Sakia’s chest buzzes lightly.  _ Finally, some praise. I’ve been working hard, Shishou- _ She pauses mid-thought. 

_ Shishou..? _

“And the pain, dear? From 1 to 10.” Dr. Shuuzenji reminds her- critically watching Sakia’s eyes.  _ Trying to find a concussion. I’m not concussed- _

Sakia stares her right back in the eyes. She keeps her stare focused on purpose. “1. 2 when I’m walking.” Because it  _ is _ ignorable. For someone like her. She’s not a fuckin’ wimp. 

“I was getting ahead of myself, then. Rating a broken nose at a 2?” Recovery Girl shakes her head. 

"You’re a little too low on stamina. We'll have to set it before I use my Quirk. Let me get some numbing cream and anesthesia." She wheels around her rolly-chair to face her desk. “Where is that nasal spray..?”

Sakia clicks her tongue. Waiting for numbing was a waste of time. She had a fuckin’ shift this afternoon and couldn’t afford to waste more time at school than necessary. She rolls her tongue across the line of her teeth decidedly. 

“That’s okay, Doc.” 

“Hmm?” 

Recovery Girl turns just in time to watch her reach up and jerk her nose back into place.

“ _ Oh, Goodness! _ ”

Sakia leans forward to let the new gush of blood fall into her lap. She looks up- just to  _ soak in _ the distress on their dumbass faces. Bastard Pro is as tired as always- squinting just a little harder than normal. Icy looks pale- might be because of his  _ own _ broken nose, though. She smirks even through the throbbing pain all over her swollen face. 

Recovery Girl is back at her side instantaneously- batting away Sakia’s hands. Her gloved-up fingers prod at Sakia’s realigned nose with far less gentleness as before.

“How reckless! You may have set the bone- but you are incredibly lucky that you didn’t cause more damage. Just because you have a little medical knowledge doesn’t mean you can pull a stunt like that, girlie!” Dr. Shuuzenji scolds her with all the gusto of a woman with a decades-long medical history. 

Sakia lets her. There is no greater waste of time than arguing with a medic. 

“Ah, yes, understood. Will my stamina be enough to heal it now?” Sakia has to hold a hand in front of her mouth just cause she doesn’t want to splatter blood on Recovery Girl's bastardized hero-scrubs. (She  _ also  _ doesn’t want the Doc to see her shit-eating grin.)

“I have a feeling I’ll see you in here often, hm?” Recovery Girl squints at her long and hard. It’s a strict look. Speaks volumes about how long the Doctor’s been dealing with reckless, high-risk patients. 

Sakia bites down on her tongue and looks away only for a  _ second. _

Dr. Shuuzenji sighs. “Keep your eye on this one, Eraser.” 

Sakia’s eyes catch the slightest shift of green in her peripheral. The shift as a privacy curtain is pulled aside just to peek. It’s only for a second. Shredded bits of green costume. Green curls- and green eyes-

Recovery Girl gets in the way before she can see. 

Sakia has not received many cheek-kisses in her life. In fact, most of them were when she was a tyke. The other half were unsolicited from gross assholes while she was clocked in.

And still, Recovery Girl’s healing kiss still finds itself ranked as the fuckin’  _ worst _ one ever. Unnecessarily wet and puckered, lingering way too long. Her bruises and cuts stop hurting but the slimy feeling on her cheek is  _ scarred _ into her mind for eternity. 

And then she’s  _ exhausted _ . Bone-deep tired behind her eyes and in every muscle like she’s just worked back-to-back-to-back weekend closing shifts. Like how she’s  _ going to _ these next few days. Disgusting.

“There! I’ll get you a bandage to help support the healing bones. Make sure you get a lot of rest and don’t do anything strenuous, okay?” Recovery Girl points a finger at her.

Sakia meets her eye and sincerely says, “Of course,” Without meaning a single bit of it. 

\-----

Sakia places down the burning plate with the delicate care of a thousand first-time parents- even as her fingertips go pink and tender. 

She smiles politely at the customers and it most  _ certainly _ doesn't meet her eyes but every single one of the shitheads are plastered. They don’t notice that her eyes are blazing with fury- cheering drunkenly as the girl on stage hangs upside down on the pole. 

She places down the last scorching plate of nachos and gives them all another scathing lip-tilt. The least ass-faced of them grins back. In fact, he chirps out, “Thanks, doll!”

She sidesteps the swat aimed at her ass. 

The drunk laughs playfully- like it’s a  _ joke _ that he tried to feel up a minor. Probably isn’t even seeing clear enough to see the baby fat still on Sakia’s face. Dumb bastard. 

She scoffs and turns around.

A long arm laced-over in fishnets waves over the crowd. 

“Oi, Oi, Hana-pyon! Over here!”

Her gullet goes hot. Flames lick at her lungs and climb up her throat. She tramples them down and she keeps walking until she’s back in the kitchen. And right into the walk-in. 

Her singed fingers tangle in her bangs- tugging apart the artfully side swept ponytail one of the dancers had given her. The cold freezer air does little to settle at the anger boiling in her chest. Her shift is almost done- technically is, since it’s already 1:07 a.m, but that last table of asses had managed to squeeze in just before her shift ended. It’s her last table and something about those asshats tells her that it’s not worth it to wait for whatever petty-change they’ll give for tips. Maybe she should ask someone to cover-

The door opens. Sakia looks up to meet the face of one of the cooks. Takahiro or Takashi or something. There’s a few awkward, silent moments between them as he just _stares_ down at her. He finally seems to register what he’s seeing. 

“Shit, kid, you’re still here? Ain’t it a school night?” He leans against the doorframe.

She groans. It’s  _ technically _ a school morning. Now. She’s still got to go home and shower and  _ finish homework. _ She’s probably not getting into bed until fuckin’  _ 2 _ if she’s lucky. 

“Some assholes managed to get sat right before my shift was supposed to end.”

The cook huffs and reaches over to grab diced tomatoes.

“Sounds like Keihi-san won’t leave you alone either. Why don’t you just bounce?” He shrugs- bags under his eyes highlighting just how little fucks he gave. 

She breathes in more cool refrigerator air and decides,  _ Y’know what, fuck it. _ She unties her apron and slides past him. 

“Alright, I’m out.” She waves lazily and throws her apron at the bin. It flops pitifully on the floor but she keeps walking without looking back. It doesn’t matter though, because the moment she passes back out the kitchen doors-

“Hanacchan!”

A hand snaps around her wrist.

Sakia snarls- mouth tearing open like a lion’s. Hackles raise- nails digging into the tender skin of her palm. Her nose protests as she scrunches it. 

_ What a long,  _ **_long_ ** _ fucking day it’s been- can’t do this can’t do this can’t- _

“Ara ara, Hana-pyon, you’ve been ignoring me. I don’t get it, what’s wrong, hmm?”

Keihi tilts his head. His hand is gentle on her wrist- warm and careful but  _ firm _ . His dark blue brows are furrowed down on lime-green eyes and Sakia  _ almost _ believes he’s concerned. For her, that is.

The hand touching her skin  _ itches. _

_ “You’re fucking kidding, right?” _ She jerks her arm out of his grip. “After what you fucking said to me? I should kill you- you absolute  _ two-faced whore son of a bastard bitch-” _

“Mah, mah, Hanako-chan, what are you talking about? Last night, I was just super tired and had difficult clients! You can’t expect me to always be available. It’s not fair to me and I feel like you’re ignoring how  _ I  _ feel, y’know?” His entire focus is on her. He doesn’t look away and the frown on his face looks  _ so, so  _ concerned.

Her stomach twists with sour acid. She  _ knows _ what he’s doing but her stomach still twists and her throat blazes anyways. The back of her tongue is heavy and thick with the goddamned taste of  _ zebra cakes _ .

Her teeth click and squeak as she snaps her mouth and grinds her molars. “I don’t want to fucking talk to you now!” 

Her fingertips are cold. The palms of her hands are slick with chilling sweat and yet the back of her neck burns like she’s pressed it down on an electric stove. 

She stomps away from him and the bass-deep boom of the music in the room rattles her already racing heart.

“Talk to you later, then!” 

And he sounds so  _ sure of it.  _

She’s shaking with every step. 

The door seems so  _ goddamned  _ far. Her vision tunnels and the edges are tinging black but the bite of her pretty blue nails into her freshly healed hands keeps her feet moving.

Her jaw aches by the time she shoves past the half-asleep bouncer. 

The door slams shut behind her with a silent, delicate click. She sucks in the biting night air desperately. Her lungs squeeze at every breath she pulls in- messy hair plastered to her skin and shoulders tense as all hell.

_ Punch something bite something scratch something kill something anything anything anything- _

“Took you long enough, dead bitch. Th’ hell was holdin’ you up?”

Sakia’s lungs empty.

Sato Yakeru is sitting on the curb.

His wrist is wrapped in a marked-up cast. His face is all swollen and plastered up and he’s got a white stick tucked between his split lips. That sick-green glow is radiating off of him like the lame ass quirk that it is. 

Sakia’s mouth forces itself into a twitching grin- throbbing teeth flashed at him. 

“You look pathetic as hell sitting outside a strip club like this, glowstick.” She still sinks down on the curb next to him- legs thrown out in front of her. Her feet ache in her cute shoes. 

He huffs, crunching down on whatever was in his mouth. “Imagine how pathetic  _ you _ look walking out of one, huh?” 

He hands her a stick. She grabs it reflexively. Her thumb runs over the little stick and its  _ candy- _ a candy cigarette.  _ Where the everloving fuck did he manage to find these? Nowhere sells these anymore _ . 

She shoves the whole damn thing in her mouth. 

“You walkin’ me home again, shit-face?” Her feet cross at the ankles and she leans back to look up at the sky. There’s jack shit to look at because she lives in a damn city and it’s cloudy.

( _ She can almost remember stars. Almost. But she’s always lived in a damn city so where is she remembering constellations like that?). _

“Lookin’ for an excuse to stay out of the house, yeah.”

Her stare snaps over to him.

His shoulders are hunched. He bites down too hard on another candy and his teeth clack. Sakia eyes him balefully.

She can't remember if she put that split in his eyebrow or not.

“Mmm,” She switches her legs around and flexes her achy toes. Her eyes stare pointedly at his face, “... Your old man again?”

His nose twitches. He doesn't respond.

Sakia rolls her neck and stands slowly. Sato only takes a second to follow- hands tucking into his pockets. The scowl on his face says far too much. She gets it.

So they walk. 

Sakia's finger pluck at the skirt of her uniform dress. The stiff fabric is starting to piss her off and does  _ nothing _ against the wind chill. Her shoes scrape against the ground with every dead-tired step she takes. 

Sato's mouth is puckered sourly around another one of those sugar sticks. His green-glow eyes stay stuck to the ground.

_ Pouty motherfucker. It’s always the same goddamned problem too. Th’ hell you always making that face for? What am I supposed to do, huh?  _

Sakia knocks her shoulder into his- far too roughly. He swings his scowl from the pavement to her makeup-slick face. The dry lipstick on her mouth feels like it cracks apart when she bares her teeth again. Biolumi-Dumbass pushes his whole goddamned bodyweight into the shove he throws back at her. Her nose throbs as she jerks from it and nearly fuckin’ trips on a piece of shitty sidewalk. 

She tilts her chin down- even though she has to look up at him. “You could move out. Wouldn’t Goda let you stay at his?”

“Nah, his folks moved closer to that dumbass engineering school he got into.” Sato reaches out and  _ pulls _ on her ponytail. 

Sakia stomps on his toes. “So get a job. It’s tough shit but it works.”

He pauses. Only for a second- knees locking momentarily. But Sakia’s known this bastard for years since they went to the same shitty, poor junior high and this dumbass thought he had what it took to bully her. She zeroes in on him- watching the twitches on the corner of his mouth and furrow of his brows. He shakes his head and doesn’t look at her. 

“Gotta watch m’ little sister. Can’t just leave her there. Not with him.”

_ Dumb Cunt. Take her with you. _

Sakia bites down on her tongue for that one. It’s already a struggle to feed just herself. Another mouth? Impossible. 

_ Just leave her. Kid’ll learn on her own. I sure as hell did- _

Sakia tucks her hands into her pockets instead. 

All that exists between them is shitty Thursday 1 a.m. traffic and the shuffling of their clothes as they walk. A cat yowls. Glow-Sato’s teeth crunch down on a sugar stick. She pivots on her foot and slouches in front of her apartment front door. Saki doesn’t really have anything to offer but- 

“Want me to kick your ass?”

Her fingers idly pluck at the keys in her pocket. She can’t stop thinking about that fucking  _ modern hero art history _ homework she has and yet here she still fucking is standing in front of the Glow Bastard, asking him if he needs his teeth kicked in. 

He smirks. 

Or something. It’s hard to exactly tell. His dumbass face is swollen as all hell so the whole damned smile is lopsided and bruised. His split lip might even be bleeding more. 

He brushes some lilac hair out of his eyes. It falls back over his huge, bruised-up forehead anyways. “We have school tomorrow morning. Get to sleep, Quirkless bitch.”

She chooses, just this  _ once, _ not to rock his shit for that. Instead, she jerks her chin in a nod. 

“Night, glowy-bastard.”

\-----

_ “It’s midnight. What’re you around here for?” _

_ Obsidian eyes stare straight into hers with a glare that  _ **_screams_ ** _ of ‘try me’.  _

_ His lips are tight- not quite a frown but his whole goddamned pretty face is all tense. He slouches and keeps his hands tucked into his pockets. Every single strand of his choppy hair rustles dramatically in the breeze.  _

_ She sinks deeper into the shitty stone bench. It’s cold- even though she’s been sat on it for a solid fuckin’ hour now. Her shins are frozen and the only thing keeping her fingertips from being numb is the constant circle of hot (( _ ~~_ chakra _ ~~ _ )) she’s got running through them.  _

_ Her eyes catch on the bag strapped to his back.  _

_ Oh.  _

_ Her teeth click. There’s a venomous strike of something in her stomach. Cold. Nauseating. Her sharp nails drag against the stone and even as they catch against the rough, jagged grain with a grit of pain- she bites down on her tongue.  _

_ And yet, when she opens her mouth- _

_ “What, no bedroll?” _

_ He jerks- freezing midstep.  _

_ The bastard huffs out a hiss of smug, self-righteous breath. His chin tilts and the smirk on his dumb, plush lips is empty. His dark, long-lashed eyes are dead.  _

_ “You should get home and sleep.” _

_ He blinks once like that’s the end of this. He makes move to keep walking-  _

_ And she throws her foot out in front of his. _

_ She leans forward just so her yellow eyes glint in the moonlight as she glowers up at him. “Hah? You don’t even have the time for a couple of fuckin’ words, Red Eyes?” _

_ Her tongue rolls across the line of her teeth and she pushes down the roiling of rage in her throat.  _

_ He pauses. _

_ Her arms cross over her chest.  _

_ “Too good for me again?” _

_ She digs teeth into her cheek so her fucking lip doesn’t quiver. Goosebumps prickle at her arms and she thinks ever so faintly of how much it might cost to buy a coat. Too much. Chump missions like theirs pay so little and if this bastard- _

_ If he’s-  _

_ When he leav- _

_ She can’t take squad missions for a while. Can’t afford a coat.  _

_ He shifts minutely-  _ **_impatiently_ ** _. By the Sage, this motherfucker can’t even  _ **_wait_ ** _ , huh? She’s a fucking nuisance, huh? Is that it?  _

_ She kicks his dumb, skinny ankle.  _

_ “Why ain’t ya saying goodbye, asshole?” _

_ “Why should I have to tell you anything?” He spits it at her- not even  _ **_looking_ ** _ at her.  _

_ Her nails dig into her own arms. Her teeth grit and the thrum of circulating energy in her limbs spikes irately with every second this dumbass pretty boy keeps looking resolutely away from her face. _

_ She roughly tugs strands of her hair outta her face. Her teeth click. _

_ “Keep out of my business. It’s not your concern.” He snarls.  _

_ He starts walking again. Keeps his back turned to her and the fine-tuned training ingrained into her bones  _ **_shakes her fucking core_ ** _. ~~(~~ _ ~~_ -His back- go for the neck. Slash his tendons and take advantage of the tilt of his chin- jerk his neck and- _ _ ) _ ~~

_ “You won’t even look at me.” _

_ The joints in her hands tingle painfully. The back of her mouth is flooded with boiling water and it steams up her esophagus and fills her head with mist. Her ears are hot. The nails biting into her skin keeps the coiling (( _ ~~_ chakra _ ~~ _ )) in her chest from overflowing.  _

_ Well over a year with this asshole and he won’t even spare her a glance before he fucks off for however long.  _

_ “Gonna leave me here with Shitty Sensei and Dead Last, huh, and you won’t even say goodbye? I knew you were a coward but did you-” _

_ “Don’t call me that!” His head whips around. _

_ She snaps her eyes up to his forehead. _

_ His eyes are swirling red.  _

_ She continues even as he seethes at her with blood-moon eyes. “-Did you think that I’d stop you?” _

_ The red of his eyes doesn’t sputter out. But she can see the tense lines in his face slacken slightly.  _

_ He takes a half step towards her- only just to turn towards her. To face her. _

_ Now she won’t look at him.  _

_ “You’re not going to stop me?” _

_ She shifts and hair falls into her eyes. “I’m not an idiot. You were always dead-set on this.” _

_ His wrists are shaking.  _

_ “For a while, I thought I’d take the road with us 4 together.” _

_ She laughs and it's bitter but mostly resolute. Accepting. This spiky-haired bastard was fucking  _ **_leaving_ ** _.  _

_ And yet- he’d still said ‘us 4’.  _

_ “Road doesn’t end here, dumbass.” _

_ Her arms force themselves onto the backrest of the stone bench. She wiggles her toes around in the night air.  _

_ “Come back when you’re done, yeah?” _

_ Her chin tilts up towards the moon. Neck exposed to the stars- and yet the bastard is still kept in her peripheral.  _

_ She can see the little smirk at the corner of his mouth.  _

_ “The team ain’t right when it’s short an orphan, ya hear? You’re not allowed to die, red-eyed bastard.” She mutters it to the clouds. _

_ He turns enough to face her fully.  _

_ “Thank you.” _

_ Like a dumbass- she looks him in the eyes- _

\-----

It’s fucking mindnumbing. 

The school work  _ and _ the school and the gossipy students and even the school uniform. 

It’s just… fucking  _ boring. _

She comes to class every day and sits in her seat and her classmates stare at her and whisper under their breaths. The blond asshat ( _ Bakugou Katsuki. Position: 3rd rank. Quirk: Explosion. He secretes Nitroglycerin sweat that can cause explosive reactions-) _ behind her kicks her chair or something else vaguely ‘bully-like’ and Sakia glares back at him and he glares at her glare and then their lazy sensei crawls through the door. 

She takes notes when it’s something she doesn’t already know and keeps her face forward and ignores that  _ goddamned heavy stare someone keeps on her damn-near all class. _ And everytime she looks back- she can see those fuckin’ green eyes flick nervously away from her. Fuckin’ osteroperosis boy. He never stops staring at her and that fucking stare is  _ analytical _ . Intense, even- because he fucking mutters and writes a storm of notes in his ratty ass notebook. Sometimes, she  _ swears _ he tries to follow her around during breaks. Infuriating.

Homeroom ends and then it’s English. Sakia knows English. That class is boring. Then it’s Modern Literature. Also boring. The it’s fucking  _ Modern Hero  _ **_Art History_ ** _.  _ She takes the most fucking notes in that one but it’s a fucking  _ history _ class. Fuck History. Fuck that class. 

Lunch is…

Sakia eats alone. Outside. When she can budget it- when tips are good- she buys the school lunches. Elsewise… Sakia gets to birdwatch for lunch. If she’s lucky, she finds dandelions. 

Then it’s Mathematics. Yadda yadda. Sakia runs calculus through her head for fun. Does physics on the spot. Mathematics is a fucking breeze.

And the class everyone gets hype for?

As it fucking turns out, Heroics class runs on a weekly sort of schedule. It happens every day- but the big events are  _ weekly. _ Every fucking Thursday. So every other day, Sakia has to sit through a class about battle tactics and laws n’ shit-

How fucking  _ boring. _

Sakia sighs and keeps trudging forward. At least today was a Heroics battle lesson. She couldn’t  _ wait _ to punch the fuck outta one of her classmates. 

She’d gotten some new gear commissioned too. She’s hoping it’s done for today’s class. 

She stops in front of her locker- idly squeezing on the strap of her backpack. Her freehand turns the lock like muscle memory. 

Sakia wonders faintly what the Heroics exercise will be. Hopefully another fighting one. Hopefully a fighting one where she’s paired against that Baku-Bastard. She’s been  _ dying _ to shove her foot up his ass-

An envelope is sitting on top of her books. 

The locker door doesn’t have slits in it.

_ How did someone put a letter in her fucking locker..? _

There’s nothing else in there. No stolen items or new shit. No physical changes whatsoever. Just a letter. In her locker. In her  _ locked _ locker. With no access inside without the code. 

Her hand melts itself into the metal of the locker door with  _ mute apprehension.  _ Her teeth ache as she bites down on nothing and stares at the ominous white envelope and yellow sticky note. 

_ Only way someone got in this locker was with a code. _

And the only people who have the code is UA’s fucking  _ administration _ . 

Or someone watched her. 

Sakia doesn’t know which is worse. 

_ A letter from a Student? Or from the School? _

Some part of her considers closing the locker and walking away. Pretending like she never saw it and never will see it for weeks. She doesn’t need her books at all, right?

_ (“Nothing ventured, nothing gained!”) _

Sakia’s not a coward. Can’t be. And only a coward would close this locker.

She snatches the damn letter like a lunging tiger. 

The yellow sticky faces her at point blank.

_ Greetings, Young Miss Yamada! _

Her blood is cold.

_ As of recent, there have been posts on social media and speculative articles about the existence of a quirkless student in the heroics course.  _

Sakia didn’t eat breakfast but if she did, she might feel nauseous right about now. Instead, the space between her lungs feels hollow. Her fingertips tingle. Her shoes might be sinking into the floor. 

_ Let me preface this by assuring you that your identity is still secure. U.A. does its absolute best to assure its student’s safety- and with a situation like yours, this sort of ordeal takes precedence! _

The reassurance means little to her. But at least her lungs are working again.

_ Even with these circumstances in place, we’ve received this letter addressed to who we can only assume is you.  _

_ Enjoy your first fanmail! _

_ Principal Nedzu _

The yellow note crumbles in her shaking grip. 

_ To U.A’s Quirkless Heroics Student _

She stares down at the envelope with a blank sort of stare. Her hands are numb. Her cheeks feel fuckin’ flushed with blue. Bloodless face with bloodless hands and twinging joints. Her nose-bridge aches. Her teeth are sore.

She signs her soul away and rips the damned thing open.

_ Dear First-Year Student, _

_ Fuck. _ They narrowed it down to know that she’s a fucking  _ First Year _ . Not a name-  _ But that’s only 40 students  _ to pick from.  _ A fucking 0.025% chance they figure its her. _

_ I don’t know you and you don’t know me. In fact, I don’t know anything about you. I don’t have a name or any idea if you’re a boy or girl but I know one thing for certain: You’re Quirkless and in U.A. Congrats! That’s a really hard school to get into. I’m sure you already know that, though.  _

_ But it’s very big news for a Quirkless person to make it into U.A. Especially the Heroics course. Be very proud of yourself.  _

_ But if I’m entirely honest, this wouldn’t be enough for me to have sent a letter. _

Sakia feels like her heart has stopped for a couple minutes now. She can’t really feel most of her body but her heart is fucking  _ pounding _ . She can’t hear shit- just the rushing thrum of her blood as it struggles to keep her alive-

_ My son is the reason.  _

_ He means very much to me. He’s my only child and he’s young but a very bright boy with big dreams. Very big dreams. And those dreams have crushed him. _

_ My son was recently diagnosed as Quirkless. _

Oh great- a piece of fanmail and it’s a fucking  _ sob story. _ A sob story that knew that she was 1 of 40 students in a prestigious high school. 

He teeth clack and she starts  _ gnawing _ on her thumbnail. But she can’t  _ look away _ .

_ He was devastated.  _

_ All my little boy wants is to be a hero.  _

_ He wouldn’t even get out of bed.  _

_ There was no hope i-- _

The next few lines are scribbles marred with water damage.  _ Tear _ damage.

Sakia’s thumbs crease the paper.

_ And then he’d seen an article. There was nothing but speculations and linked social media posts but that was enough for my little boy. He was so,  _ **_so_ ** _ sure that you were real. Even just from one measly little article.  _

_ And he’s himself again. _

_ My little boy wants to be a hero a lot. And you’re the reason he can still keep dreaming. _

_ Because if there’s a Quirkless student in U.A, then there can be Quirkless heroes. _

_ Thank you. _

_ Let’s not end this on a low note. I’m cheering you on! You can do it! You’ll soar the charts and make it Top Ten for sure! So, Win Win Win! Me and my son are cheering you on, First Year Student! _

_ From a thankful mother _

Sakia’s stomach boils while her heart beats coldly. 

_ ((( _ _ A deep, deep part of her is touched. A tiny little spark in her heart))) _

She’s a fucking  _ token. _

Her hands shake.

_ A model for little coward boys and their slump moms? _

She chews on her tongue.

She tastes blood.

She throws the damn letter in her locker and slams the fucking door shut.

  
  
  
  
  
  


~~_ ((( _ _ She doesn’t throw the letter away _ _ ))) _ ~~

\-----

Aizawa Shota had thought, at first, that his real problem child would end up being the ash blond with a powerful quirk and superiority complex. 

_ Don’t get him wrong-  _ Bakugou Katsuki is definitely a huge problem child. 

_ But her- _

Aizawa stares critically at the girl sitting in the cot. Her tongue drags against the cut on her forearm. Her nose dribbles more blood but she doesn’t move to lick  _ that  _ away. Her golden eyes singe holes into Iida’s face.

Iida doesn’t glare back. Or even look at her. His eyes are carefully on Recovery Girl- who’s numbing his arm to set a  _ damn broken bone _ . He cradles his arm to his chest because that skinny little menace of a girl had managed to  _ break _ it.

If Aizawa closes his eyes, he can practically  _ see _ it still. He’d only been teaching the class because that idiot All Might had wasted all his time. 

It was a simple exercise- another cityscape hero practice. It was spanned across a 5 block area and the exercise boiled down to one thing; 1v1 search and apprehend. 

The damn brat was far too smart for her own good. She’d sat there during half of the 10 minute preparatory time with her fingers steepled before she  _ smirked _ . And then for the next 5 minutes- the whole class watched her kick over shit and start  _ rigging  _ a narrow alley with thin wire.

She’d known that Iida would seek her out. 

So she trapped the whole damn alleyway and  _ waited _ .

It’s as he sees Iida notice the knocked over trash cans that he realizes how there’s no scenario where she doesn’t win. Because the Class Rep starts  _ running _ in that direction. Probably with a head full of ideas about apprehending her with his speed.

_ “You ever play laser room?” _

The fight is almost embarrassing to watch. Iida spends the whole exchange tripping and tangling in the wires. And even though the alley is dark- she maneuvers in the fight with ease.

Aizawa has to sit there with dull boredom and acceptance- even as the class cries out when she kicks off the alley walls to land behind Iida.

He shifts and the engines on his legs whine and his face is full of frustration and she  _ grins _ and-

He speeds right into her grapple.

She takes his arm as he zips past her-

_ And she pulls and twists. _

It’s only after she grabs the bat and swings that Aizawa’s hand flies up to his mic-

The bat comes down on Iida’s arm.

_ He screams. _

She reels her bat back again.

_ “Yield-” _

_ “Yamada! Don’t swing that bat. Exercise is over.” _

Aizawa keeps his eyes on her even as she keeps boredly bouncing her leg in the cot. She looked jaded- tired and bored and not even a little bit sorry. Not even a little bit pale. She keeps licking at her blood and glaring at Iida.

She hadn’t even  _ flinched _ . 

Iida Tenya finally flicks a glance up at her. Yamada Hanako doesn’t even blink as his eyes immediately fall away.

“ _ Mwah-!  _ There we go, dear! Keep that in a cast for the next few days and see me again on Wednesday, okay? Go easy on it.” Dr. Shuuzenji pats his shoulder-  _ the good-arm one _ \- and smiles warmly.

Iida leaves without a word. 

Recovery Girl watches him leave with this faint sort of worry. Aizawa watches her expression shift into professional warmth. He supposes decades of being a doctor could do that.

“I figured I’d see you in here again, hm? Oh-! Quit licking that, missy!” Her wrinkled face goes from vaguely playful to stern- wagging her gloved finger pointedly as Yamada drags her tongue across her cut.

Yamada drops her arm. Her face is calm even with the blood smeared on her lips and sweat-slick hair sticking to her cheeks. “‘S fine, Doc. Just a cut from some wire. Doesn’t need stitches.” 

“I’ll decide that for myself. Let me grab the disinfectant…”

Shota shifts and scratches at his stubble. Recovery Girl is efficient at what she does but he’s still got a ton of paperwork to do  _ before _ patrols if he has any hopes of sleeping a few hours tonight… 

Yamada doesn’t even flinch at the sting of disinfectant.  _ What a monster of a little girl. What kind of insane pain tolerance..? _

Aizawa eyes her thin wrists. 

Dr.Shuuzenji meets his eye.

“Alright, no stitches. Your nose isn’t broken again, either. C’mere then, dearie.  _ Mwah!” _

Yamada Hanako grimaces but is apparently polite enough to not wipe at the spit on her cheek. She tilts her head and  _ very quietly _ thanks Recovery Girl. She slinks off the bed  _ mellowly _ \- eyes lidded as she staggers past Eraser and out the room.

The door clicks shut behind her but neither of them say anything for minutes after. Minutes until they’re  _ sure _ she’s far gone.

“That girl is far too skinny for her height, Aizawa-kun.” 

His fingers tap against his bicep. He doesn’t know exactly how to say ‘ _ How is this my problem?’ _ without pissing off Chiyo. So instead, he nods. 

“Girls her age like to diet, I’m told.”  _ The way out. The ‘opted to ignore’ route.  _ ~~_ The ‘I will not concern myself with any of these kids because that’s getting emotionally attached’. _ __ ~~

“Not that girl and you know it. She’s got a high metabolism and she’s not eating enough. She’s stressed too. I told you to keep your eye on this one.” Recovery Girl shakes her head at him in disappointment. 

So sue him. This little girl was the most likely to get kicked out of U.A- at least, without Nedzu’s meddling, that was. Quirkless  _ and _ a history of delinquency. She’d already lasted longer than Aizawa expected, though.

Maybe, at this point, he  _ should _ keep an eye on her bruises and boney ankles. 

“So she’s skinny. What do you expect me to do about it?” He sinks against the door- loathing every second this drags on because  _ damn him, _ he might be feeling a little guilty. 

Chiyo smiles blithely at him. “Make sure she eats more. And tell me if you see bruises.”

_ (A purple-yellow curled around her cheek. Split knuckles and lips. Busted eyebrow and bandaged shins- _ )

Aizawa sighs and shakes away the thought. Yamada Hanako was such a smart menace that the idea of it doesn’t even seem possible. 

_ Still… _

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT ME GIVING EMOTIONAL DEPTH TO A POINTLESS SIDE CHARACTER-
> 
> I don’t even know if Sato is going to be a recurring character like that but apparently he’s important enough to just show up, huh? 
> 
> This might seem like a whole buncha filler and that’s because it is. Important filler, though. Most of this is set up for future happenstances. Like that fact that Midoriya is going to fucking STRUGGLE to talk to Sakia. Cannot WAIT to characterize Midoriya in Sakia’s eyes. 
> 
> Also whoops about taking so long and also not making this the USJ but since no one mentioned anything, I decided to pander a bit to school building. It makes no sense for there to be hero exercises EVERY DAY with how limited All Might is so here’s my take on it. 
> 
> Next up should be the USJ. 
> 
> Any feedback at all? I’m always down to her criticism!

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, remember how I mentioned that she’s a recycled Naruto OC? I really like reincarnation stories n fics so uhhhhh she gets visions of her past life. They won’t heavily affect the story just yet but I have plans. Thanks thanks!


End file.
